


Neither Nights Nor Days Left

by Cassy27



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Criminal Thor, Loki is seventeen, M/M, Physical Abuse, Scumbag stepdad, Set in the modern world, Some minor Tony/Steve on the side, Thor is twenty eight, Violence, teenage loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki witnesses a murder and his life will never be the same again. Looking back on it now, it's a miracle Thor didn't kill him then and there, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm back with a new story and it's Thorki again! I hope you guys like this one, too. The title comes from a song by Rachid Taha named "Barra Barra". It's part of the English translation of that song. Updates will come steadily since this story is mostly finished.
> 
> Enjoy!

He didn’t know how it started. He never knew how it started. One minute he’d been in his room minding his own business, and the next he was having a shouting match with his stepfather. Maybe it started when Richard had his first drink of the evening. Maybe it started when Loki went to the kitchen to grab a soda. Honestly, he didn’t know. He’d wanted a quiet evening where he could focus on his homework and crawl into bed early. But all of that had been swiped right off of the table.

“Come here,” Richard hissed, actually snapping his fingers at Loki and demanding him to come closer.

Like hell was Loki going to obey like he was some sort of dog. Though in Richard’s eyes, he probably was exactly that. They had never gotten along, not even when his mother had still been alive. They hadn’t even pretended for her sake, but since her death a few years ago, it had all gone downhill.

“I won’t repeat myself.” His words were surprisingly well articulated considering the drunken state he was in. His cheeks were flushed red, his eyes wide and livid for some unknown reason. His short brown hair was a mess. “Loki, goddammit, you will listen to me!”

Loki glanced around. He was trapped in the corner of the kitchen, Richard having snuck up on him when he’d been studying the contents of the fridge – beer, beer, and more beer. And now he stood pressed against the edge of the sink, his hands gripping the edge so tightly that his hands hurt.

“You’re drunk.” He was stating the obvious, he knew that, but maybe Richard didn’t know that. He probably had another hellish day at the factory. He always took out his frustrations on Loki then. “I’m going to go back to my room and finish my homework, so leave me alone.”

He didn’t know what it was that set him off. Richard’s nostrils flared and he closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Before Loki was aware of it, he felt the back of Richard’s hand slap him across his cheek, the skin instantly smarting, like a thousand needles were pricking him. Loki fell sideways, onto his knees, but he didn’t stay like that. He refused to be smaller than Richard. Scrambling back up, he darted past the man – whose reflexes weren’t as fast as he thought they were, what with all the alcohol in his system – only to hesitate when he got to the hallway.

He could dash for his bedroom, lock the door, and hope Richard wouldn’t bash it in. It wouldn’t even be the first time. Or he could make his way to the front door, jump on his bike and wait a few hours. It was only a matter of time before the asshole would fall asleep on the couch before a playing TV.

He really needed to make up him mind.

“You little shit!” Richard was coming for him. “I am your father and you will–”

Loki almost, _almost_ , turned around at that. The man, that asshole, was _not_ his father. His father had been a good man, smart and honorable and everything Richard wasn’t. But Loki had more self-control than that. Making up his mind, he hurried for the front door and threw it open. He could hear Richard’s thundering footsteps behind him and he could hear him scream and curse. Loki ran down the small, weed–overgrown path and jumped on his bicycle.

It was a cold spring evening and he was only wearing a thin green shirt, but Loki couldn’t be bothered about it. It wasn’t like he could go back and fetch a sweater. No, he didn’t even _look_ back. Richard was still screaming at him, calling him awful names, but Loki didn’t listen to him anymore. He rode his bike down the street and across the intersection. It was already after nine o’clock so there was little traffic. This part of the city was mostly abandoned anyway.

Loki slowed his speed, lazily riding through the streets now, and focused on his breathing. He hadn’t realized it when he’d fled from the house, but his heart was pounding wildly within his chest, his hands shaking with adrenaline coursing through his veins. Fuck, what was he supposed to do now? He should have thought more about this plan, but then again, it wasn’t like Richard had given him the option of coming up with a plan in the first place.

He contemplated on going to the park. At this hour, it would most likely be empty, except for a few teenagers still hanging out around the skate-park and a few drug dealers doing business in the south part of the park. If he avoided those sections … It was a bad idea. At the corner of Jackson and Madison Street, he halted, setting one foot on the ground to keep himself upright. He already felt the cold wind cooling him down.

There was a night shop just a few blocks away from where he was. Not a lot of people went there since the owner had a bad reputation – what kind of reputation, Loki didn’t know – but he had a few bucks in the pocket of his black jeans so he could buy something to help calm his nerves and warm him up a little. Loki started riding again, swerving down the streets, wondering just what he must have done to set off Richard like that. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything besides ‘existing’. That always seemed enough to set the bastard off in a fit of rage.

When he arrived at the little shop, it was abandoned, just like he’d expected. He set his bike against the side of the small building since he wasn’t stupid enough to leave it at the street side. The last thing he could use today was someone stealing it. It was his only method of transportation. When he walked to the entrance of the shop, he found the door old, the glass dirty and stained.

The sound of an engine drew his attention, and Loki quickly looked over his shoulder, half expecting Richard to show up with his old pick-up truck. He didn’t know the car, however, so he dismissed the thought. Chances were small Richard would leave the house anyway.

Inside the shop, the only person present was the store owner. He was sitting behind the counter, a magazine in hand. For a second, he glanced up, his brown eyes sizing him up, and then he dismissed him, his attention focused on the magazine again. Loki didn’t say a word as he moved to the aisle where the cigarettes were, if he could even call it an aisle. He could barely move between the shelves without knocking something over.

He grabbed his usual brand of cigarettes and stared at the package for a few long seconds. It wouldn’t be enough to keep him warm. Glancing up, Loki found the store owner still absorbed in whatever it was that he was reading. Loki sucked his lower lip in between his teeth and bit down on it. For a brief second, he wondered what his mother would think of him if she were to see him right now, but that was a stupid thought. His mother was dead, had been dead for a long time now. She couldn’t care less what he was doing or what mess he had to deal with day in and day out.

Quietly, not wanting to draw the store owner’s attention, he moved to the back of the store where the bottles of alcohol were neatly stacked up, letting his fingers trail over the metal shelves. Bottles of whiskey were gathered by the floor and the gin was positioned right above that. There was absinthe and cognac, tequila and vodka. Loki had never tasted half of the stuff. He picked up a few bottles, wanting to get a closer look at them, only to settle for a small-sized bottle of rum. It was just the easiest one to steal, small enough to hide near the small of his back.

The door to the shop opened again, and Loki carefully glanced past the shelves, still expecting Richard to show up unexpectedly and drag him back to the house. But it wasn’t Richard. It was a tall and broad man, dressed in black boots, blue jeans and a black leather jacket that emphasized the widthof his shoulders. His shoulder-length blond hair had been pulled into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. The man vibrated danger, even more so when his dark blue eyes shifted across the store, searching.

Loki couldn’t help but pull himself back, hiding behind the shelf. For some reason, he didn’t want those blue eyes finding him.

“Is the store empty?” The man demanded to know after a short moment of silence.

Loki felt his heart thumping in his throat. He could actually feel a shift in the air. This was the worst part of city and, right now, Loki cursed himself for coming here so late in the evening. He hadn’t thought it through! Fuck. He turned to look at the back of the store, spotting a door with a giant sticker saying ‘NOT AN EXIT’. That would lead him outside and Loki prepared to make a run for it – until he heard the store owner’s voice again.

“Uhm, yeah,” The guy said, “What do you want? I don’t have money.”

This had to be some kind of robbery. And now he was stuck. Making a run for it was the worst of ideas.

Very carefully, Loki peeked around the edge of the shelf. His breath got caught inside his lungs. The blond man had a gun in his hand now and he was pointing it so very casually into the store owner’s direction. Loki bit down on his tongue, refusing to make a sound. If this was a robbery, he’d just have to wait it out. It was the wisest thing to do.

“Fuck, I told you that I don’t have money!” The store owner said, panic in his voice.

“I’m not here for your fucking money,” The blond man hissed. He removed the safety pin from the gun – and then Loki couldn’t stand to look at the scene anymore. He hid behind the shelf full of alcohol and closed his eyes, praying for the guy to just take what he wanted and leave. “Does the name Iris ring a bell?”

Loki could hear the store owner produce a smothered, distressed sound. Shit, what was going on? Loki kept his lips firmly pressed together and held his breath. He could _not_ make a single sound. The store owner had said the store was empty after all, which meant that the guy was protecting him for whatever reason. Loki felt like a little shit when he looked down at the small bottle of rum that he was still holding. He’d planned to steal that.

“Listen, I did my time,” The store owner said, the panic in his voice transforming in pure hysteria, “I paid for what I did.”

“Not enough apparently,” The blond man replied ever so calmly and composed. “I saw her, the girl. Marie is her name, right?”

Loki had no idea what any of the conversation meant, but apparently, the store owner did because he began begging then, his voice trembling. He was crying, too, Loki could hear it. His curiosity got the better of him and Loki leaned sideways, wanting to catch a glimpse of what was happening by the counter. The store owner was still begging, tears running down his cheeks.

“You big fuck,” The blond man cursed and, without warning, he lifted the gun and fired it, the shot ringing through the store as it blew away half of the store owner’s skull, blood and brain mattersplattering across the counter and wall behind him.

Loki gasped, eyes widening before he slapped a hand over his mouth, not knowing what else he could do. But it was too late. Loki watched as the blond man spun around, his dark blue eyes easily finding him as Loki stood fixed in place. He made his way to the back of the store, steps confident and grotesque. Loki jumped away, eyes glued to the man heading his way. Those blue eyes narrowed and then he lifted his gun again, this time aiming it at Loki.

Not knowing what else he was supposed to do, Loki threw the bottle of rum at the man, aiming for his face, and ran to the back door. It wasn’t locked. The cold evening air cut through him as he made a run for it. He jumped on his bike and took off as fast as he could.

This was a part of the city he hardly ever came to and now he remembered why. He rode on and kept riding on as fast as he could, not looking back and ignoring the way his muscles burned. A heavy engine roared behind him, but Loki still refused to look back. Only a few seconds later, a motorcycle circled around him and halted in front of him. Loki pushed on his brakes, skidding to a halt, and almost crashed right into it.

Somehow, he managed to make a sharp left turn, making his way across a patch of moist grass by a gas station, only for his front wheel to slip. He tumbled down, landing with his shoulder on the grass, shouting out when he felt pain shoot through his arm.

He couldn’t stay down, however. No, he had to keep moving, so Loki scrambled upright as quickly as he could, but it was too late. A strong hand grabbed onto his shoulder and forced him around. Loki sucked in a sharp breath as the blond man dragged him along a few meters and shoved him up against a brick wall, hidden in shadows. His head snapped back hard enough for black spots to swim before his vision. Loki couldn’t do or say anything, because another strong hand curled around his throat, making it impossible for him to breathe.

Instinctively, he latched onto the hand, trying to remove it, trying to get air again, but the man was too strong. He tried kicking out, but the man’s body was pressed against his as if to remind him that he was much taller and stronger than him. But Loki refused to give up. He dragged his nails down the man’s hand, scratching him, until the cool and sharp blade of a knife press against his lower stomach.

He froze, not daring to move a muscle anymore. He didn’t even dare to blink, but perhaps that was a good thing. Tears stung his eyes and the last thing he wanted was to start crying, no matter how fucking scared he was. His bottom lip trembled.

The man stared him right in the eyes, that blue gaze of his piercing him, and Loki wanted nothing more than to become invisible. All that he could do was wait for the inevitable blow, for that knife to cut him and kill him, but nothing happened. Seconds ticked by. Loki couldn’t take it anymore. He turned his head sideways as much as he could, what with the man still half choking him, and closed his eyes, well aware of the tears that escaped him now.

Rough fingers trailed down his cheek.

Loki shuddered and hissed in pain. Richard had hit him there not even an hour ago so the skin was still sensitive. Those fingers continued to touch the forming bruise until the hand around his throat disappeared altogether. Loki dropped to the ground and he reached up, touching the sore skin of his throat, knowing he’d have another bruise there tomorrow – if he lived until tomorrow.

But the man stepped back, creating space between them. His dark blue eyes narrowed as they took in Loki’s form. He twisted the knife in between his long, rough fingers. “What did you see?” He asked, pointing the knife in Loki’s direction.

He shook his head. “Nothing,” He gasped out after a moment when he trusted his voice again, only he sounded like a mess, his voice hoarse and barely audible, “I saw nothing!”

“If you breathe a word to the cops or to anyone else,” The man said with a low and deep voice that seemed to ripple through the air, reaching Loki to the bones, “I will make you regret it. Don’t get mixed up with business you know nothing about, kid. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Loki said, frantically nodding now. His head was spinning.

The man threw him one last hard look before turning away. He walked back to his motorcycle, some type of Harley Davidson as far as Loki could tell, and put hishelmet on. He looked even bigger then, especially when he got onto his bike and revved the engine a few times. Loki couldn’t bring himself to move, not even when the man tore off down the street.

-x-x-x-

He hardly slept that night for obvious reasons. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw the store owner’s brains being blown out. He didn’t even know the man’s name, which unsettled him. Turning to lay on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, Loki couldn’t help but visualize that dark blue gaze again. He’d stared a killer in the eye. He’d had a knife pressed to his stomach. It had been so fucked up.

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Loki reached up and gingerly felt the skin of his throat again. It wasn’t so sore anymore.

Early in the morning, he heard Richard moving around in the house, taking a shower and grabbing a quick breakfast before he went to work. Strangely enough, when he heard the front door close, Loki felt a weight drop off of his chest. He could breathe a little bit better and a few minutes later, his eyes fluttered shut. He dreamed of the store, dreamed of the man getting shot in the face, and he awoke with a jolt when his alarm went off. A thin layer of sweat covered his back and face.

The entire morning passed in a blur. Loki hardly knew what he was doing. He should go to the police, or he could at least call them anonymously or something. He should tell them about what had happened last night, about what he’d seen, but each time he glanced at the phone, he felt that blond man’s hand around his throat again and he couldn’t breathe anymore. It was only when he was leaning against the kitchen counter, his hands grabbing the edge so tightly his knuckles had turned white, that he realized that he was having a panic attack. He was trembling and his chest hurt. He was breathing so fast and shallow that he felt dizzy.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Why, he didn’t know, but it helped. His breathing slowed and he got control over his limbs again. Perhaps he should just pretend nothing had happened last night. Whenever Richard got particularly violent, he did the same thing. It was easy. He’d gotten used to it. So he could try and do the same thing now.

With that thought echoing through his mind, Loki got dressed, grabbed his backpack, and jumped on his bike. He raced through the streets, the chilly morning air brushing through his jet-black hair and actually helping him disentangle the chaos that were his thoughts. He’d made the right decision. Forgetting about last night was the right course of action. The man got killed and his murderer would be caught. The cops didn’t need his help for that. No, there was no reason to risk getting killed himself.

Arriving at the high school, Loki locked his bicycle down and headed for the main entrance. It was still early and there weren’t a lot of students around yet, which was exactly why Loki preferred arriving at this hour. It wasn’t like he had friends and, really, he rather avoided everyone inside that building. His classmates all thought they were better than him anyway. They hadn’t yet come to the realization that in this city, no one was worth shit.

As usual, Mr. Barton stood by the entrance, making sure everything happened orderly. Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, Loki moved up the stairs that lead to the big double doors and he prayed that he’d get in unnoticed. But when was luck ever on his side? Certainly not these past twenty four hours. No, as Loki approached the doors, he could already feel Mr. Barton’s intense grey eyes on him. Truth be told, he couldn’t blame him. He was quite the colorful picture today.

“Loki?” Mr. Barton asked, stepping in front of him, a look of pure concern on his face. Mr. Barton was one of those guys that thought they could make a difference in this city. He obviously wasn’t from around here. Loki hated to admit it, but he liked him. He was a good teacher, actually enjoyed what he did, and he had a stubborn dedication to students that other teachers had long given up on.

“Good morning, Mr. Barton,” Loki said with a forced smile. His grip on the strap of his backpack tightened when Mr. Barton’s eyes took in the lovely shiner on his left cheek and the bruises around his throat, though he’d been able to hide a lot by wearing a black hoodie. “It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, but Mr. Barton didn’t even seem to notice.

Loki wanted to enter the building, only for Mr. Barton to put a hand on his shoulder, his injured one. He cringed away from the touch, cursing himself for it, and Mr. Barton quickly withdrew his hand. Fuck, the last thing he needed was a teacher on his case. He had enough to deal with as it was.

“Loki,” Mr. Barton said, his voice heavy with concern, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

It was nice to know that there were people in the world that still cared for other people, but Loki wished Mr. Barton would care about _other_ people than him. He shook his head with a sad smile, because what was the point in denying how he felt when evidence of abuse was written – or in this case, colored – so blatantly on his face.

He didn’t know why his gaze was suddenly drawn to the street. Perhaps he caught a glimpse of him through the corner of his eye or perhaps his mind subconsciously registered it, but for whatever reason, Loki looked aside and spotted the motorcycle. His gaze travelled up, taking in the motorcycle, the black leather jacket and, eventually, those dark blue eyes. They were fixed on him, completely, and Loki felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

“I’m fine,” He said, his head snapped back to Mr. Barton who was frowning now, “Don’t worry about me,” The words were tumbling from his lips before he could stop himself, but Mr. Barton’s grey eyes had shifted towards the street, as well, seeing what Loki had seen, and fuck, this shouldn’t be happening. What was the guy even doing there? Though the answer to that question was obvious. He’d had told him explicitly. Loki swallowed heavily, his heart beating violently against his ribcage. “Thanks for the concern, sir, but I should get inside now,” And with that, he darted past Mr. Barton before he could utter a single word of protest.

Loki hurried into the closest bathroom, throwing his backpack aside, uncaring of where it landed, and leaned over the first dirty sink in the row. The cool ceramic helped him ground himself, helped him remember that he was at school and not at the night shop.

He felt nauseous and hot, sweat pooling at the nape of his neck. He threw up what little contents had been in his stomach.

Seconds ticked by and transformed into minutes. Outside of the room, Loki heard more and more voices, more and more students filling the public high school. Loki knew he had to pull himself together. He focused on his breathing, in and out, in and out, and grabbed his bag, swinging it over his uninjured shoulder again. He looked like a mess and he felt like a mess, but he still had to get through the day.

He had to try at least.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t know what time it was when he finally got home. After school, he’d wandered around a bit, his bike next to him, and he’d found himself heading into the direction of the night shop. As soon as he’d realized that, he’d stopped, exhaling slowly. He hadn’t move for a few long minutes, his eyes having scanned his surroundings, but there had been no one around and besides some distant traffic sounds, everything had been quiet.

Only it wasn’t quiet inside his head. No, it was loud and chaotic in there, and a gunshot kept ringing in his ears, the sound sharp and deafening, making him shudder each time it echoed through his mind. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing blood and brain matter everywhere, either, and even though he hadn’t touched it, even though none of it had actually landed on his skin, he still felt dirty.

Not knowing where else to go, Loki headed home. He was getting hungry, after all, and he longed for a shower to wash away the imagined gore. The sun was beginning to set by the time he arrived at his street and all the houses he passed were old and in desperate need of a new paintjob. Occasionally, he heard children playing in the small gardens behind the houses. They didn’t have a clue yet what kind of life laid waiting for them – a sucky one.

After locking up his bike by the white metal fence surrounding the house where he lived, Loki made his way to the front door, the red wood chipped in various places. He pushed open the door and made his way inside the house, dropping his backpack carelessly into the corner of the narrow hallway. As always, he paused for a moment, listening to his surroundings. The house was silent and Loki hoped that Richard was out or something. He often went to this rowdy bar at the edge of the city where they played nothing but country music.

He walked into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator, knowing he’d probably find nothing proper to eat inside, but he never gave up hope. After all, Richard did get groceries now and again. The asshole had to eat, too, sometimes. But as predicted, the fridge was empty, nothing but beer and a few soda cans inside. Loki sighed and closed the refrigerator. He let his head bump softly against the kitchen cabinet right above it. What was he supposed to eat now?

“I got a call from your principal today.”

“Holy fucking–” He gasped, spinning around in the blink of an eye and pressing his back against the kitchen cabinet and the fridge behind him, the act instinctual. No, habitual. Richard loved sneaking up on him like that. But no matter how many times Richard did it, his breath still came out in short bursts and his heart still thumped wildly against his ribcage. “You scared the hell out of me,” He confessed.

Richard’s words sunk in then, and Loki couldn’t bring himself to move from where he was standing, tension creeping into his muscles. Unease made his stomach twist painfully. The principal having called could never mean anything positive.

Richard pushed himself away from the doorframe against which he’d been leaning and casually strolled into the kitchen, consciously putting one foot in front of the other. Loki couldn’t help but watch him for a moment. He wasn’t drunk, that much he could tell, but right now, he didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing. No, Richard screamed repressed anger and frustrations. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

“They want to talk to us tomorrow after school,” Richard continued.

Loki forced himself to keep breathing, no matter how hard it was. He wanted nothing more than to run, too, but right now, it would only work in his disadvantage. Richard was too close to the door and he wasn’t close enough, so with calculated movements, Loki followed the line of the kitchen cabinets, his hands trailing over the cheap wood.

“And why are you pissed off at me?” He asked, raising one eyebrow. He shouldn’t be challenging Richard like that, not now, not when he looked seconds away from hurting him, but screw him. Whether or not he mouthed back at Richard or not, the guy was still going to try and slap him or punch him or kick him or whatever.

“Did you talk to a teacher, Loki?” Richard demanded to know. He lifted a hand and pointed a half-empty beer bottle in his direction. Loki swallowed heavily at that motion. It wouldn’t be the first time Richard had thrown a bottle at him and it definitely wouldn’t be the first time he’d need stitches, but if it was all the same to that asshole, Loki rather avoided it. “I bet you talked to some stiff asshole and cried about your problems like the whiny kid you are.”

“Or maybe they just had one look at my face and knew what you did to me. I mean,” He paused and pointed at his bruised cheek, “You’re stupid enough to hit me in the face.”

The bottle came flying his way, and Loki quickly dodged away. The bottle shattered into pieces above his head and a shard fell down his cheek, along with whatever beer had still been inside the bottle. Loki felt a stinging pain, but he didn’t bother checking the cut he knew he had to his cheek now, right over the bruise. No, with his heart now beating in his throat, he continued to make his way down the kitchen, slowly, not wanting Richard to know he was heading for the kitchen door.

“Oh yeah, you should really throw glass at my face when the principal wants to see us tomorrow! Great thinking!”

“You’re an ungrateful little shit,” Richard hissed. His hands were balled into tight fists and a vein was visibly throbbing on the side of his neck. Rage was radiating from his body. The time bomb was close to detonation. “I let you live here, I feed you, I pay for your clothes, and this is how you show gratitude?”

“You’re legally bound to do all that shit,” Loki argued. Sure, he was scared. Richard was a good five inches taller than him and there was no denying that he was stronger than him, too. He’d gotten really muscled once he started working at the factory two years ago. But none of that made Loki’s anger disappear. It just wasn’t fair that he was forced to live with a man who loathed him. Hell, he might even be better off in a boy’s home or something. “You adopted me when you married my mother ten years ago.”

“Oh and how I regret that decision now!” Richard hissed.

“Well,” Loki replied, a vicious smirk curving the edges of his lips upward, “That makes two of us then.”

The time bomb detonated. Richard exploded, stalking across the kitchen with big steps in order to get his hands on Loki, but while Richard was taller and stronger, Loki was faster. He darted for the kitchen door and ran outside, his stepfather running after him, but they had done this fucked-up dance enough times for Loki to know that Richard wouldn’t actually chase him down the street. What would the neighbors think? Even worse, what if they called the cops? No, Loki knew Richard rather avoided any contact with the police.

Only when he got to the end of the street did he stop running, his lungs burning with every breath he inhaled. He leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees, black spots swimming before his vision. Fuck, he wasn’t getting enough air, his chest heaving. He waited a few minutes, head hanging down, eyes closed, and he sucked in big gusts of air. When he finally felt as though the oxygen in the air was actually reaching his lungs and when his knees stopped shaking as much, Loki straightened his back and started walking again, already regretting not having jumped on his bike, but he couldn’t go back now.

It wasn’t six o’clock yet so Loki figured he could head for the park for a while. It was only a few hours after sunset that the bad types came out to play. And he could use some fresh air to clear his head, to think about what the hell he was supposed to do, because fuck, he did _not_ want to talk to the principal tomorrow. What would he even say? Richard would make him deny everything, as always, and Loki would, because he still valued his life. The principal wouldn’t believe him, for obvious reasons, but there would be nothing he could do about it. So why even bother with it at all? Why had the principal even called?

He found an empty bench on the western side of the park. In the distance, he heard the little league team playing baseball. He’d been in the little league team when he’d been younger, too. His mother had always walked him to the baseball field and had watched him play, cheering him on. She had always told him he’d done a great job, whether he’d played great or not. And then she’d met Richard and there hadn’t been time for the little league team anymore.

Loki didn’t know why he was living in the past so much lately, why he thought about his mother so much these past few days. Fuck, he missed her, and he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would be like if she’d never gotten sick. She’d have divorced Richard by now, he was sure of it, because there was no way his mother could have stayed in love with an asshole like him. No, they would be living in a nice house now with nice neighbors. They would have been okay.

With a sigh, Loki lied down on the bench, eyes fixed on the darkening sky. He reached for the pack of cigarettes he’d kept in the back pocket of his jeans all day. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake as yesterday ever again, after all. From now on, he would keep a pack of cigarettes on him at all times. After putting one between his lips, he grabbed his lighter and lit it on fire. The first inhalation of smoke made his muscles relax a bit, and when he blew it all out again, he already felt warmer than he had a few minutes ago – that and he was still wearing his black hoodie, which now stunk of spilled beer.

“Did no one ever tell you that smoking is bad for your health?”

When he heard that voice, Loki scrambled upright and jumped up. Fuck, why did people enjoy sneaking up to him like that? Did they get some kind of sadistic pleasure out of it? He took the cigarette that had previously been between his lips in hand and cautiously backed away. It seemed that was all that he was doing lately; backing away from men who were bigger and stronger than him. Only this man was far more dangerous than Richard.

“I didn’t breathe a word to anyone,” Loki told him, still backing away. He kept his emerald green eyes firmly on the blond man – the blond man who didn’t move a muscle from where he stood. He made no indication that he wanted to stop Loki from getting away either. “You don’t have to follow me around,” He continued when the man didn’t speak up or threatened him in some way, “I won’t go to the cops.”

The man kept staring at him, those dark blue eyes unwavering, and Loki felt his skin crawl. He didn’t enjoy those eyes on him, scrutinizing him. He felt as though the man saw things about him that no one else saw, that he read things in his eyes that were hidden from everyone else but him. And yet somehow Loki found that he was more afraid of Richard than of this man who had killed someone in cold blood. It was ridiculous really.

“What happened to your face?” The man asked. Without taking his eyes off of Loki, he took a seat on the wooden bench, knees spread almost obscenely wide and an arm resting on the edge of the bench. Loki reached up, carefully feeling his cheek. He had a bruise there, from yesterday, all purple and red now. And then his fingers brushed down something rough and crusted, and Loki hissed when he felt the small cut. How could he have forgotten about the beer bottle that had shattered above his head? A shard had cut him, but with all the chaos that had happened afterwards, he’d forgotten about it. Now that he remembered, he started to feel the stinging pain again. Fuck, he probably looked like a mess, too.

“Your father did that to you?”

“My father is dead,” He mumbled. He didn’t even know why he said that. The man had no business with it, but perhaps Richard’s words from last night were still cutting him. He’d had the nerve to say he was his father – though Richard probably meant ‘owner’ by that. He was a son of a bitch like that. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” He asked before taking another pull of the cigarette in his hand.

The man stared at him, eyes following the movement from Loki’s hand as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“What’s your name?”

Loki glanced around. They were all alone. If the guy wanted to hurt him, there was no one to stop him. Though chances were small he was faster than Loki. Few men were faster than him. It was one of the advantages of growing up with Richard. But if the guy wanted to hurt him, he would have already done so, wouldn’t he?

“What does it matter what my name is?” He asked tightly. He cocked his head sideways. Strangely enough, as seconds ticked by, Loki felt more and more at ease, which meant he got more and more defiant. It was second nature. He couldn’t help it.

“I believe you,” The man said with a smile. There was a glint to his eyes that Loki couldn’t unravel. He couldn’t pin the man down. He couldn’t read his eyes. He was a mystery and Loki hated mysteries. “I don’t think you’re going to talk to the cops. You have enough shit to deal with, don’t you?”

Loki swallowed heavily at that, but his feet were dragging him forward, towards the bench. Haltingly, still unsure of what the hell he was doing, Loki sat down, pressing himself into the other corner of the bench. The man chuckled softly as he watched him, and Loki sent him a sharp look. Like hell was he going to let that bastard laugh at him!

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours,” Loki said, his thumb playing with the butt of the cigarette in his hand. The man watched his movements again, especially so when he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped an arm around them. “I mean, you believe me when I say that I won’t go to the cops, so I can know your name, right?” And maybe, just maybe, the man would leave him alone afterwards after this little test.

The man nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed together. His fingers drummed on the edge of the bench for a moment. “Thor,” He said after a short silence, “That’s my name.”

As little as Loki could read in the man’s eyes, he knew he was telling the truth here. It wasn’t a common name so it wasn’t one a guy would come up with at the top of his head. Shit, he hadn’t actually expected the man – _Thor_ – to reveal his name.

“I’m Loki,” He said, because a deal was a deal. He stood and tossed the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor, stomping on it. “And now I want to kindly ask you to not bother me again. I don’t care what you did. It’s not my mess.” It was only partially a lie. A part of him really didn’t care about the shop owner, but another part of him … It was best not to spend too many thoughts on it all.

He spun around and started walking away.

“You want a lift somewhere?” Thor asked.

Loki halted and bit down on his lower lip, eyes firmly ahead, focusing on a random tree. “No,” He said. Where on earth could Thor take him anyway? He had nowhere to go but home, if he could even call that place his home, and he wasn’t ready to face Richard again just yet. Besides, he wasn’t going to get in a car or crawl onto a motorcycle with a guy who had threatened him with a knife not even twenty four hours ago and who’d actually killed someone. He wasn’t going to be one of those kids that disappeared off of the face of the earth. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

He started walking again then, not looking back.

-x-x-x-

His foot kept tapping rhythmically against the floor as he sat in one of those uncomfortable chairs right outside of the principal’s office. It was four o’clock and most of the students were gone now, having gone home to be with their parents or hanging out with friends. He wished he could leave, too, but he was to wait for Richard so they could go into the principal’s office and have a talk about the bruise on his face. The bruise _and_ the cut. Loki was already searching for excuses, but ‘I fell down the stairs’ and ‘I bumped into the door’ was all that he could come up with. And if he wanted a decent excuse, then he’d have to think of something better.

Footsteps sounded nearby and Loki glanced up to find Richard walking his way. The fucker had the nerve to smile at him, though he was probably just not taking any risks. A teacher could see them after all. Even worse, the principal could see them since his office was right next to the chair Loki sat on and that door could open at any given time. And then there were the cameras.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Richard asked. That smile of his was still in place, but his voice sounded cold and distant and accusatory, like it was his fault that the principal wanted to see them.

God, Loki wanted to wipe that smile right off of Richard’s face, but instead, he just returned the smile with an icy one of his own, telling Richard that he wasn’t going to take any of his crap. “Yeah, let’s get this over with,” He muttered as he stood and knocked on the principal’s door.

Mr. Coulson’s reply came instantly, telling them to come in. Loki had been inside that office over a dozen times already. A few times he’d been asked to come and see Mr. Coulson when he’d had bruises on his face or arms. He’d been forced to talk to him when his mother had died, too. They’d wanted him to talk to the school psychologist, but like hell had he agreed to that. And now he was back here again, Richard following him inside.

They took a seat on the opposite side of where Mr. Coulson sat. He had his hands folded on the wooden desk, a folder underneath them. Loki took the chair closest to the window and leaned back, knowing he had to keep his body language relaxed and laid-back. It was game he’d played several times already and he was getting good at it.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Mr. Coulson started, his gaze shifting between Loki and his stepfather before it settled on Richard, “I’m sure you’re aware of why we called you here, Mr. Langley. We’re all concerned about your son–”

“Stepson,” Loki couldn’t help but interject. It earned him a dark look from Richard, but Loki shrugged it off and focused his attention on the principal again. Mr. Coulson offered him a kind smile. He was actually really similar to Mr. Barton in many ways. Mr. Coulson always wanted to help those that couldn’t be helped anymore either. It was courageous and foolish, too.

“Stepson, then,” Mr. Coulson continued, keeping the tone of the conversation light, “Mr. Langley, Loki’s grades have been dropping significantly the past few months even though we know he’s a bright kid, and then there are the bruises which, frankly, trouble us.”

Richard let out a soft, apologetic sigh. Loki wasn’t the only one used to playing the part. Fuck, they both deserved Oscar nominations for this. “I understand, sir,” Richard started. He leaned forward a little, legs crossed, his elbows resting on the armrests of the chair he was sitting in, “And I can assure you that I am trying my best to help Loki, but he’s so very shielded, isn’t he?” He threw a smile in Loki’s direction, and Loki wanted to scratch his eyes out. “Lately he’s been having trouble with a few older kids from down the street.”

Loki hummed, going along with all this nonsense. He didn’t have another choice after all, because on second thought, a boy’s home? It didn’t sound so inviting anymore. And who would want to take in a seventeen year old foster kid? “They can’t stand me,” He said, nodding dolefully, “I don’t know why or when it started, and lately, they’re always trying to steal my bike. Last time, they hit me in the face.”

Mr. Coulson was staring intently at him, nothing but doubt and skepticism in his eyes. “And they cut you, too?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” Loki said without blinking, without missing so much as a beat, “I’ll work on my grades, sir, I promise, and I’ll stay away from those kids. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“He hasn’t had a terrific childhood,” Richard said, a sense of anguish to his voice and eyes. He was really stepping up his game here, Loki almost admired it. _Almost._ “He lost his father at such a young age, Mr. Coulson,” He continued, staring the guy right in the eye, “He barely even remembers him. And then his mother got sick and died when he was fourteen. We are all doing our best to support him and I know Loki is trying his best, too, but some days are just tougher than others.”

Mr. Coulson didn’t say anything for a long time. He was so obvious onto their shit, but he didn’t say a word about it, and Loki really appreciated it. No doubt he’d have to come and talk to Mr. Coulson alone tomorrow, but he could handle that, too.

“Alright,” Mr. Coulson finally said, breaking the silence, “But if the situation escalates, we’ll have no choice but to intervene somehow.”

“I understand, sir,” Richard said charmingly, and fuck, Loki suddenly saw the guy his mother had fallen in love with. The thought was almost enough to have him break character and start cursing and screaming. “I will keep Loki out of trouble, no worries.”

The conversation ended there. Loki didn’t trust his voice enough to say another word. He shook Mr. Coulson’s hand, offered him another masterfully crafted smile, and followed Richard out of the office. Every now and again, he threw a glance in his direction. By the time they got to Richard’s car parked on the high school parking lot, he no longer wanted to scream and curse. He wanted to cry, because every evening, he had to come home to a guy that made his life hell and there was nothing anyone could do about it. It was a sad thought.

They didn’t speak a word the entire way home, the silence in the car suffocating Loki, but the trip only took a few minutes so he could take it. God knew he’d taken a lot worse. And a part of him was grateful that Richard kept silent, too. It gave Loki a chance to gather himself, to shove down any thoughts and emotions that confronted him with the fact that he had no one in his life except for this asshole of a stepfather.

As soon as Richard parked his old pick-up trick in front of the house, Loki got out, grabbing his backpack and swinging it over his shoulder. He sucked in a deep breath of the chilly afternoon air. He didn’t move from where he stood next to the car, not even when Richard climbed out of the car, too. Richard gazed at him from across the hood of the pick-up truck, his brown eyes full of promise – and not the good kind. Loki swallowed away the lump that began to form in his throat.

“Let’s go, Loki,” Richard said, jerking his head toward the house.

“Why?” He couldn’t help but ask. He still refused to move and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So you can beat me everywhere but my face?”

Richard waved a finger in his direction. “We have some serious talking to do,” He snapped, teeth gritted together. His face was already turning red. “So get your ass inside my house or I swear to God, I will lock you out for the night and you can see how well you do when you’re freezing your ass off.”

Loki blinked, weighing Richard’s words, but honestly, a night out in the cold didn’t sound much better than the prospects of having to go inside with him. Still, he shook his head. “I’m not going in with you unless you promise not to hurt me,” He said. He took a step back, away from the car and away from his stepfather. “Because I know you’re going to hurt me and I’ve had quite enough of that.”

“You unbelievable son of a bitch,” Richard fumed.

He darted around the car, hands grabbing for Loki, and Loki wasn’t able to move fast enough. It hardly ever happened, but Richard managed to latch onto his sweater and shoved him up against the side of the pick-up truck. The metal pushed painfully against Loki lower back. Richard lifted a balled fist, and Loki flinched, preparing for the inevitable blow –

– that never came.

A single headlight lit up, blinding them both.

Richard let go of Loki and stepped back, body angled toward the light. He was pissed.

Loki wasn’t going to waste the opportunity, though. He jumped away from the man, putting as much distance in between them as possible before he finally turned to the headlight, too. His eyes needed to adjust for a second, and then he recognized the black boots, the blue jeans and black leather jacket. Shoulder-length blond hair was smoothed back and blue eyes were studying the scene unfolding before him. Loki felt his heart skip a beat. Why, he didn’t know. He just knew he was relieved to see the man right now.

When he turned off the headlight of his motorcycle, Thor cocked his head sideways, dark eyes meticulously switching between stepson and stepfather. The edges of his lips curled upward ever so slightly suddenly.

“Is there a problem here?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice.

Yeah, Loki decided, he was really fucking happy to see him right now.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard’s hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was so obviously trying to decide what the best course of action was, but there was one detail that had him holding back. For once, Richard was facing a man broader and stronger than him. It would be foolish to pick a fight, though Loki kind of hoped he did. He’d give all his few, but precious possessions to see Richard getting punched in the face.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” Richard settled on eventually. His upper lip curled up in a sneer. “Now get lost before I call the cops on your ass.”

Loki’s head snapped toward Thor for some reason. “He won’t,” He told him. There was a desperate undertone to his voice, but he didn’t care. Right now, he didn’t want to be left alone with his stepfather, knowing that he’d be left battered and bruised by morning, and Richard would be smarter about it this time. He’d aim for his stomach and chest. Such bruises could be easily hidden. “He can’t stand the police and the police can’t stand him. Too many drunken brawls.”

Thor gave him a reassuring smile and focused on Richard again. “I can’t stand assholes who think they’re better because they’re bigger,” He said. He was still sitting on his motorcycle, arms casually leaning on the hand clutches.

“I don’t have to listen to this shit,” Richard said, head shaking, “Loki, get inside now or don’t bother coming inside again until tomorrow. Your choice.”

Loki swallowed heavily. Fuck, he really didn’t want to spend the night outside. The city could get really fucking cold and all that he was wearing was a shirt and sweater. He wouldn’t freeze to death, but he sure wouldn’t be comfortable. So what choice was he left with? Biting away his frustrations, Loki turned toward the house until Thor called his name.

“Here, catch,” He said, throwing a helmet into Loki’s arms.

Loki stared down at the helmet once he caught it, unsure of what the hell Thor meant by it.

“Jump on,” Thor said, pointing to the empty seat behind him.

He didn’t even have to think twice about it. Yesterday, he would have thought himself suicidal for going with a man he’d seen commit a murder, but today … Well, today everything was different, wasn’t it? Today Loki had a chance to get away from Richard, if only for a night, and he’d grab the opportunity with both hands. Putting on the helmet, he hurried towards Thor and climbed onto the motorcycle, carefully wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Loki,” Richard hissed, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

His emerald green eyes fell on Richard’s form, looking at him from over Thor’s shoulder, but he didn’t say a word. There was nothing left to say, and thank God Thor thought the same thing. The man revved his engine, Richard jumping back at the sudden loud sound, and then they drove off, Loki clutching at Thor’s middle like he was hanging onto dear life itself. Perhaps he was.

They drove through the city, through streets Loki had never been in, and it didn’t take him long to realize that Thor was driving them to the East side of the city, which was actually a better part of this godforsaken place. People with money lived there, and apparently, so did Thor, because he parked his heavy bike in front of a decent looking apartment building and glanced behind him, nodding his head a little, telling Loki it was okay to let go.

Loki instantly did – perhaps a bit too fast even. He jumped up from the bike and pulled off the helmet, holding it out for Thor to take, which he did. A part of Loki was still wondering what the hell he was doing. He’d actually gone with a murderer and, for all he knew, he was about to get killed. Another part of him just expected Thor to be a sadistic bastard who would just leave him out here now. Loki had no idea where he was so finding his way home would take him ages, even though he really didn’t want to go home to that asshole of a stepfather.

Thor stood and after locking down the motorcycle, he turned to Loki, his dark blue eyes staring at him. Loki hated that he couldn’t read anything about the man. His eyes were expressionless which was really fucking annoying.

“Come on,” Thor said after a few seconds of silence. He spun around and headed into the building, not looking back to see if Loki was following or not, like he assumed that Loki would.

And he did. What other choice did he have, after all? Stay outside all night? He seemed to be in a fancier part of the city, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get robbed. And he didn’t have anything on him except cigarettes. Angry robbers could turn into angry killers and right now, Loki much preferred a killer who had at least protected him from Richard.

They made their way up to the fourth floor of the building, Loki keeping a safe distance between them, still ready to run if he had to, but Thor did nothing to incite some kind of fight-or-flight response. He didn’t even look back, like he’d forgotten Loki was trailing after him like a lost puppy – and that was exactly how Loki felt right now, which frustrated him beyond reason.

“Here we are,” Thor said when he halted in front of a door with the number 403.

Thor unlocked it and stepped aside, waving a hand from Loki to the apartment, inviting him in. But Loki couldn’t yet bring himself to take those final steps. He didn’t know the guy, so what was he even doing here? Richard he knew. Richard he could predict. Mostly. Thor was a mystery wrapped in a riddle, because besides the cold-blooded murder, Thor had done nothing to frighten him, not really.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Loki,” Thor said, nothing but patience in his voice, “If I’d wanted to see you get hurt, I’d have left you with that fucker of a stepdad.”

He had a point. Loki bit down on his bottom lip and stepped into the apartment, shrugging off his backpack and dropping it down by the door. He was still waiting for Thor to strike, but the man simply closed the door behind them and walked passed him, shrugging off his leather jacket and tying his blond hair into a messy bun. Loki observed him for a moment, only for his attention to slip to his surroundings. They were standing in a kitchen, old but clean and surprisingly spacious. There was one door to his right which stood open and gave entrance to a living room. From where he stood, he couldn’t see much besides a couch and a TV.

“Are you hungry?” Thor asked. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the faucet. He held it out for Loki to take, which he did after only a second of hesitation, because yeah, he was thirsty. He nodded in response to Thor’s question, his stomach rumbling as if on cue. He hadn’t eaten since lunch and that was six hours ago now. “Great, I’ll fix us some mac and cheese. TV is in the living room if you want.”

But Loki didn’t move. He emptied his glass of water and then held it awkwardly in his hand as he watched Thor rummage through his kitchen cabinets. A few minutes ticked by before Thor turned to him again, eyes slightly narrowed. He leaned back against the sink and crossed one ankle over the other.

When he crossed his arms before his chest, his muscles flexed, and Loki couldn’t help but swallow heavily.

“What?” Thor asked, one eyebrow rising.

Loki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, knowing full well how awkward he looked, so he forced himself to stand still. He was in a killer’s apartment, on voluntary basis, which meant that now wasn’t the time to remind said killer of how young and insecure he really felt. God, he was an idiot! What was he even doing here?

He lifted his chin a bit and straightened his back, which only caused Thor to narrow his eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” Loki asked. With calculated movements, he walked toward the table in between him and Thor and set down the empty glass just so he had something to do. “You threaten me, you follow me to my school, and then you show up at my house and stop Richard. Why?”

Thor pursed his lips for a moment, as though thinking about Loki’s question, only to shrug. He pushed himself away from the sink and continued fixing them some dinner. “I saw what he was going to do to you,” He said, his back turned to Loki, “If I’d done nothing, I’d have regretted it.”

“Because you’re such a saint and all.” Fuck, he really needed to think before he spoke! This wasn’t Richard he was talking to. Really, he didn’t know who he was talking to. The man before him was a stranger and what little he knew about him wasn’t exactly positive. “What I meant was that–”

“Do you always say what you think?” Thor asked, turning to him. He shook his head ever so slightly and smiled, arms crossed before his chest.

Loki swallowed heavily and nodded.

“Good,” Thor said, his smile growing, “I hate hypocritical bastards.”

They didn’t say much more after that. Thor focused on the mac and cheese, and when the silence in the kitchen became awkward – to Loki at least – he sauntered into the living room and switched on the TV. Not that he actually watched whatever was on. No, he walked around the small room and took in every detail of the place – or the lack of details really. There were no pictures anywhere and whenever Loki dared to open a drawer, he found it mostly empty. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think no one lived here.

They ate their dinner in front of the TV, again in silence, but as it dragged on, Loki felt more and more comfortable with it. He enjoyed having dinner and watching some ridiculous reality show. He enjoyed sitting in silence without constantly having to listen to what Richard was up to, and for the first time, Loki realized, he felt safe.

-x-x-x-

When he woke up the next morning, it was due to a soft knocking on the door. Loki rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and sat up, only to abruptly halt when he realized that there wasn’t a chance in hell Richard would wake him up with soft knocking on his door. His hands dropped to his lap, and Loki glanced around, finding himself in a strange bedroom.

Right. He’d crashed at a stranger’s place and he’d fallen asleep in a stranger’s bed. Thor had told him to take the bed while he would sleep on the couch and no matter how much Loki had protested, Thor had insisted. Frankly, the guy was a great host.

“Loki?” Came Thor’s voice. “Come on, get up. You have school.”

Not such a great host then. Loki didn’t want to go to school, knowing that he’d have to deal with Mr. Coulson again. Actually, he just didn’t want to deal with a building full of nasty teenagers that lived to make each other’s life hell, though Loki was one of the lucky ones that were mostly left alone. It probably had something to do with the fact that on his first day there, he’d actually pulled a knife on another student. It had only taken him a few weeks to realize that he didn’t actually have to bring any weapons to school anymore. Others just assumed he had something on him and they left him be.

After getting dressed in yesterday’s clothes, he walked into the kitchen and shared a small breakfast with Thor. Again, they said very little, but that was okay. Loki actually liked it. And God knew the breakfast he was having right now was heaven compared to what he usually found in the kitchen back home. A bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice had never tasted so good.

Around eight o’clock, Loki stood, pulled on his shoes and grabbed his backpack he’d left by the door last night. “So,” He said, sounding hesitant, unsure of how to proceed now, “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“If Richard gives you hell,” Thor said as he cleared the table and dumped everything into the sink that still had last night’s dishes, too, “You know where to find me.” He grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and approached Loki, wiggling the keys in his hand. “Come on, I’ll drive you to school or you’ll never be on time.”

Loki didn’t even bother arguing with that. His bicycle was still at Richard’s place and if he had to choose between walking to school and getting a ride, he didn’t have to think twice about it.

Like last night, he clutched Thor’s middle tightly again, though this time it was for a different reason. Last night he’d been freaking out and the idea of getting away from Richard had had him holding onto Thor like he was a lifeline. Right now, Loki clung to him because he felt safe with him, for some silly, unfathomable reason.

Loki tried not to think about the fact that tonight he’d be back with his stepdad.

At school, he handed his helmet back to Thor and thanked him again. Thor offered him another warm smile, one that reached all the way up to his dark blue eyes before he drove off, and Loki couldn’t help but watch him go in a black blur. No matter how much he enjoyed the sight of Thor, dressed in black leather on a heavy bike, all impressiveness and grandiosity, he couldn’t stand there for too long. School was about to start and if he wanted to convince Mr. Coulson that he really was going to try his best, he had to at least be in class on time.

He hurried toward the entrance, his backpack hanging carelessly from one shoulder, before spotting Mr. Barton by the double doors, making him groan. Most of the students were already inside which meant he easily spotted Loki heading his way. Loki grabbed the strap of his backpack tighter and threw his gaze down, praying to be ignored, but of course Mr. Barton didn’t grant him that wish.

“Loki, hold on,” He said, stepping toward him and preventing him from walking inside. Loki cursed inwardly and met Mr. Barton’s concerned, grey eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice you got a ride today.” He glanced toward the street where a few minutes ago, Thor had dropped him off.

“Yeah, a friend dropped me off,” Loki simply replied. He took a step sideways, really wanting to enter now, but Mr. Barton simply mirrored his movements and stood in front of him again.

“A friend?”

“Yeah, a friend,” Loki echoed, rolling his eyes, “Or do you think I can’t have friends?” Mr. Barton pressed his lips together, obviously not liking Loki’s defensiveness. “Now can I go? I’ll be late for English.”

Mr. Barton stared intently at him, time dragging on, before he eventually took a step back, allowing Loki to enter the school building. Loki did, relief coursing through his veins because he wasn’t bugged that much, only … Loki halted, knowing that he should really keep on walking, but he couldn’t, because he was Loki and every now and again, he didn’t know when to stop.

He spun around again. “Oh,” He added, walking backwards and away from Mr. Barton who was looking at him intently, “And fuck off.”

He didn’t wait for Mr. Barton to react, didn’t wait to hear what he had to say to that, because Loki knew it had been he who talked to the principal, that he had informed him of the bruises and such, that he was the reason why he’d almost gotten hurt again last night, so fuck him.

He was barely able to stay awake during English class and it got even worse during History class. The teacher kept going on and on and on about some battle during World War Two, and really, it had been interesting for the first ten minutes, but then Loki lost interest. He sat slumped in his seat, doodling on a piece of paper in front of him.

He wasn’t the only student bored out of his mind. One glance around the classroom and he was convinced half of his fellow students were either asleep or playing games on their cell phone. The teacher knew, but didn’t bother to intervene. It was one of the reasons why he was rather well liked.

A knock on the classroom door had every student sitting up suddenly. The door opened and Mr. Coulson entered, approaching the teacher and whispering something to him. Loki didn’t hear them since he was sitting at the back of the room, but he had a feeling what it was about. His suspicions were confirmed when the principal turned to him with a sad smile on his face.

“Loki, could you please take your belongings and follow me outside?”

Sighing heavily and loudly, Loki tossed his book, his papers and his pen into his backpack and stood. The others were all staring at him, all wondering what he’d done so that the principal himself would come and get him out of class, but whatever. Let them think whatever shit they could come up with. He followed Mr. Coulson outside, feet dragging. He knew that he shouldn’t have used the f-word with Mr. Barton, and of course he’d get into trouble for it.

Only Mr. Barton wasn’t waiting outside in the hallway for them. No, a man and a woman were standing by the window, talking quietly, only for their gazes to instantly land on Loki. They were dressed sharply, both of them wearing a suit. The man was tall, with long, dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. The way his hair was tied back reminded Loki of Thor.

The woman was at least five inches smaller than the man, but she looked as impressive. Her red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her green eyes instantly scrutinized Loki, taking in every detail of his appearance. Loki couldn’t help but swallow heavily.

“This is Detective Barnes, Loki,” Mr. Coulson said, pointing a hand toward the man, “And this is Detective Romanov,” His hand pointed toward the woman.

Loki couldn’t help but feel grateful that Mr. Coulson stood at his side and that he didn’t seem to have any intention to leave it.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Detective Barnes said, taking a step closer and extending a hand for Loki to shake – which he did, because what other choice did he have? “My partner and I would like to ask you some questions concerning Tuesday evening.”

Tuesday evening.

When Thor murdered the shop owner.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki shifted in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position what with those Detectives’ eyes on him, observing and studying every little movement he made. They were in the principal’s office since it gave them the most privacy. Mr. Coulson was sitting behind his desk and the Detectives sat by the window. That left Loki sitting before them, his back to the door. He glanced at the notepads in the Detectives’ hands and wondered what they had already written down.

“Are you sure there is no one you would like us to call?” Detective Barnes asked. He sounded surprisingly kind and gentle, and Loki already knew that if ever they were to play good cop/bad cop, he would be the good cop.

He shook his head. There was no one to call after all. Richard? The guy would probably tell the Detectives to just arrest him already. A lawyer? Loki didn’t even have money to buy a proper lunch, let alone afford a lawyer. Besides, the Detectives had made it clear that they just wanted to chat. Loki could do that.

“Alright, Loki,” Detective Romanov said, drawing his attention, “Can you tell us where you were Tuesday evening?”

Loki made sure to pay extra attention to his body language. He never crossed his arms or his legs and he made sure he wasn’t caught fiddling with anything. No, he sat back, hoping he looked relaxed, and let his gaze shift between the three people in the room. He was glad Mr. Coulson was still there.

“I was out,” He answered with a shrug, “Richard was drunk, so I didn’t want to stay home. I drove around a bit, heading nowhere.”

The pen Detective Romanov used scratched incredibly loudly on the paper. Or maybe that was just Loki’s imagination. God, he wanted to know what they were all writing down!

“Did you go near Charlton Street?” She asked.

It was clear who was in charge of this interrogation, because Loki made himself no illusions. This was more than just a friendly chat. Those detectives knew exactly what they were looking for. “I might have passed it, yeah,” He replied, “Like I said, I drove around. I didn’t really know where I was heading to.”

Detective Romanov lifted one skeptical eyebrow, but she didn’t dwell on it. “Does the name Mark Carey ring a bell?” She asked, cocking her head sideways a little.

Truthfully, Loki had never heard that name in his life before, but he wasn’t stupid and the dots easily connected in his head. Mark Carey was probably that shop owner. The name had most likely appeared in a dozen newspapers, but Loki hadn’t really paid attention to the news lately. He’d had other things to deal with. So what the hell was he supposed to answer to that question?

“No, it doesn’t,” He answered after a short silence.

“He was murdered Tuesday evening,” Detective Romanov explained, “Shot in the head. Did you hear anything about that?”

“No,” Loki said, not having to think about that question, “I might have been around the neighborhood that evening, but I didn’t hear nor see anything.” Lying was surprisingly easy. Then again, he had experience in that particular area. He couldn’t help but glance at Mr. Coulson, the man watching him intently, and when their gazes met, it was so obvious that Mr. Coulson was willing Loki to tell those Detectives the truth.

He ignored him and turned his attention back to the Detectives.

“And what about Thor?” The woman asked. Loki instantly tensed and he knew everyone saw it. Fuck, he couldn’t screw up now. “Do you know him?”

Loki’s gaze switched between Detective Romanov and Detective Barnes, contemplating his options, but before he could make a decision, Detective Barnes closed his notepad and leaned forward a little, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Loki,” He started softly, “If you saw something, if you heard something, you can tell us. We can protect you if you’re afraid to get hurt.”

At that, Loki snorted. The cops couldn’t protect him from his own stepfather, but they were offering him protection against a murderer? They were hilarious! “Yeah, I know Thor Odinson,” He said, ignoring the frown on Detective Barnes’ face – for whatever reason he was frowning. It was pointless to deny that he knew Thor since Mr. Barton had seen him twice already, so maybe Detective Barnes hadn’t expected him to admit it. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Did you see him the night Mark Carey was murdered?” Detective Romanov asked.

He had to be really careful now. “I might have,” He said, sending her an icy look. He didn’t like her at all. He carded his fingers through his raven hair, smoothing it back, using it as a distraction, because he needed to think. Fuck, he no longer liked this conversation and he wanted it to end. “I don’t know,” He settled on, “Like I said before, Tuesday evening was kind of a sucky evening. A lot happened.”

“Okay,” Detective Romanov said as she took hold of a thick piece of paper, “Can you explain to us what is happening here?” She held out the piece of paper for Loki to take.

Only it wasn’t a piece of paper. It was a picture that showed Thor pinning Loki against a brick wall. It wasn’t perfect quality and it seemed to come from some security camera, but it was good enough quality to show that whatever was happening between the two of them was bad. In the picture, Thor had a hand latched around Loki’s throat.

Loki’s heart started thrumming wildly against his ribcage and he couldn’t stop the trembling of his hands. Sure, the knife Thor had pressed against his stomach wasn’t visible, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a photo where it _was_ visible. Those detectives were good at their job and, of course, they wouldn’t reveal all the information they had at once.

Fuck, this wasn’t good. Now he _really_ wanted this interrogation to end. But first he needed to stay calm. Swallowing away all of his fears, Loki held out the photo for the detectives to take again, no longer wanting to look at it. He had to play this right.

“So I saw him that night,” He gritted out, relieved that he sounded angry rather than scared and panicked, “I pissed him off, nearly rode under his motorcycle with my bike when I wasn’t paying attention. So he got angry and he got a bit violent, which he regretted afterwards. He apologized. That’s it.” There was no way those detectives were going to buy that shit, but he doubted they would call him out on his shit. “Can I go now?”

“We have a few more questions,” Detective Barnes said.

“No, I’m done,” Loki argued. He stood up and grabbed his backpack. “I have nothing left to say to you. You asked me where I was Tuesday evening and I told you. I don’t know what any of it has to do with whoever the fuck Mark Carey is, but that’s your job. I’m leaving now.”

And without another word, he stormed out of Mr. Coulson’s office. He didn’t return to class, though. He couldn’t, not while his heart was still pounding inside his chest, not while his limbs felt so heavy Loki could barely move them anymore. Breathing got increasingly harder, as did thinking.

Loki made his way out of the school building and once he got to the end of the street, he started running. He didn’t even think about where he was heading. He just ran, ignoring the way his muscles burned after a few minutes.

By the time he got to the apartment building, he couldn’t breathe anymore. His lungs hurt and he wasn’t getting enough oxygen in them, but despite the way his vision swam, he made it inside and got all the way up to the fourth floor. He knocked on the door with the number 403, violently, until his hand started to hurt. Everything hurt really.

The door swung open.

“What the fuck is–” Thor stopped and frowned. “Loki?”

“I didn’t tell them anything, I swear,” Loki gasped out, ignoring how nauseous he felt. He didn’t know why he said that of all the things he wanted to tell him. Thor’s large hand easily wrapped around his narrow upper arm and he pulled him into the apartment. Loki didn’t even wait until Thor closed the door behind them to continue in a panic. “They came to my school and asked me a bunch of questions, but I didn’t tell them anything, I swear, but I–”

“Okay, calm down,” Thor said. The hand he had previously wrapped around Loki’s arm slipped to the side of Loki neck. Loki knew Thor could feel the racing of his pulse. His heart was beating so fast Loki feared he’d have a heart-attack, and he was only seventeen years old. “Who came to your school?”

“Two detectives,” He said in between gasping for air. He let Thor guide him to a kitchen chair and sat down. When he stepped away to fill him a glass of water, he actually missed the warmth of his hand. It had calmed him, if only a bit, because that hand could have hurt him, but it hadn’t. “Detectives Romanov and Barnes, they asked me a bunch of questions and they asked about you. I said you were my friend. I said nothing about what you did. I promise.”

Thor knelt down before him and handed Loki the glass.

“I promise,” Loki repeated, needing Thor to believe him, “I _promise_.”

“I know you didn’t tell them anything,” Thor said, nodding and smiling reassuringly. He had one hand casually resting on Loki’s knee. “But you’re going to have to tell me exactly what you told those detectives. Can you do that for me?”

Loki nodded and before he realized it, there were tears slipping down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was crying. Because he was afraid? A part of him was. He wanted, _needed_ , Thor to believe him. He didn’t want Thor to hurt him. He wanted him to stay the guy that had saved him from Richard.

“Loki, look at me,” Thor said. He cupped Loki’s chin and nudged it upward, asking Loki to look at him. Their eyes connected after only a few seconds, Thor’s dark blue gaze revealing only kindness and compassion. He looked nothing like the guy who had shoved him up against a brick wall to threaten him. “You handled it well. You protected me and for that, I’m grateful.”

He was clinging to the glass so tightly that he feared it was shatter. “You protected me first,” He said quietly. His muscles finally stopped aching as much and he could breathe a little better, especially when Thor’s fingers brushed his cheek for a second, curling a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“Now tell me everything,” Thor said, stepping back.

Loki did.

-x-x-x-

When he woke the next morning, relief instantly flooded him. It was Saturday, which meant that he didn’t have to go to school and deal with anyone’s shit but his own. Frankly, all that he wanted to do was stay in bed – Thor’s bed, because after everything that happened yesterday, he hadn’t wanted to add ‘facing Richard’ to the list, and Thor had agreed to that – and not get up all day, but soft voices filtered into the bedroom.

Loki slipped out of bed and got dressed in the clothes Thor had left for him last night. They were too big, but Loki didn’t care. They smelled of Thor, which instantly made him feel safer. With light steps, not wanting to make any noise, he entered the living room. The voices were louder now. He heard a word here and there, but it wasn’t enough to make sense of the conversation, nor was it enough to satisfy his curiosity. Whoever Thor was talking to wasn’t happy, the deep voice laced with frustrations.

Carefully, Loki approached the door that lead to the kitchen. It was ajar and the closer he got, the better he heard what Thor and the other man were saying. If only he could see the other man … But Loki wasn’t going to try and grab a peak. That was how he’d witnessed a murder last time. He’d learned his lesson. He got as close to the door as he dared and leaned against the wall, wanting to listen into the conversation, only for his shoulder to bump against one of the closets, hard. He cursed under his breath and rubbed the sore spot, knowing he was a fucking idiot!

“Loki?” Came Thor’s voice.

Having no other choice left, Loki pushed open the door and entered the kitchen. Thor stood by the sink, arms crossed before his chest. He looked tense and cautious, but when his dark blue eyes landed on him, he smiled ever so faintly. If it was meant to reassure him, it failed. Loki swallowed heavily and turned to the second man present in the room.

He was about his height, but he was broader and more muscled. His dark brown hair was smoothed back and his goatee was meticulously trimmed. Dark brown eyes were taking him in, scrutinizing him, and Loki felt his skin crawl beneath the man’s gaze. Everything about him screamed power; from the obviously expensive suit to his shiny black shoes to the golden rings he wore around his fingers.

“That’s him, the kid you told me about?” The man asked, his dark eyes raking over Loki’s body.

“Yes,” Thor answered. Loki couldn’t help but move toward him, wanting to be closer to him and to be further away from the other man. “Loki, this is Mr. Stark. He’s my boss.”

“So he’s the kid who has been causing trouble,” Mr. Stark said, drawing out the words. He obviously noticed the way Loki was trying to distance himself, and with an amused grin on his face, he started to close the distance between them, cornering Loki. “Did you talk to those detectives, Loki?”

Loki feverishly shook his head. His back was pressed against a kitchen cabinet, his hands gripping the edge so tightly, and he couldn’t help but think of Richard. Fuck, why did people enjoy driving him into a corner? “I told them nothing of importance,” He forced out. He tried facing Mr. Stark head on, but it was difficult, what with those dark brown eyes staring at him, looking down at him.

Mr. Stark stepped even closer to him, his hot breath engulfing Loki. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re causing me? Thor here seems to trust you, but don’t think for a second that I ever will.” He took that one final step toward him, their bodies touching, and Mr. Stark placed both his hands on either side of Loki’s face. “You’re costing me money, Loki.”

Loki swallowed heavily and turned his face sideways, unable to bear Mr. Stark’s gaze any longer.

“Tony,” Thor said with a heavy voice, demanding his boss’ attention.

Much to Loki’s relief, the guy moved away, turning toward Thor, and Loki instantly drew in a sharp breath, not having realized he’d stopped breathing in the first place. He didn’t know when his hands had started to shake, either.

“Is there anything you can do?” Thor asked with a hint of desperation to his voice.

Tony Stark grabbed inside the pocket of his expensive vest and pulled out a small white envelope. He handed it to Thor. “Be there,” He simply said, waving a casual hand around, “Until then, keep your head down. You’re obviously under investigation and I don’t want to see you disappear behind bars. Do you understand?”

Thor nodded once. “I’ll handle his,” He said.

“You better,” Tony warned as he grabbed his coat and folded it neatly over one arm. He didn’t instantly walk out of the apartment after opening the door, however. No, he turned to Thor one last time. “Oh,” He said, like he was having an afterthought. His brown eyes turned even darker and his features were frighteninglysharp. “The kid doesn’t really look like a kid anymore, so silence him if you have to.”

With that, he left.

Loki’s emerald green eyes snapped towards Thor, half expecting him to take out a gun and shoot him. He stepped back, but who was he kidding? He couldn’t outrun a bullet. He wouldn’t even make it to the door. If Thor wanted to kill him, he could, easily. His heart thrummed painfully inside his chest and breathing became impossible again.

“Hey, no,” Thor said, lifting his hands as if to show he held nothing in them, “Don’t listen to Tony. He’s an asshole. I’m not going to ‘silence you’, as he puts it. Fuck, you’re seventeen.”

“You had no trouble killing Mark Carey,” Loki said. He continued to walk backwards, away from Thor while keeping his eyes on him. He would run if Thor so much as lifted a finger against him. He might not get far, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He would fight and scream. “You blew his brains out without blinking,” He added. Images of blood and brain matter filled Loki’s vision, making it damn hard for him to focus.

“You want to know who Mark Carey was?” Thor asked. He took a seat at the kitchen table and folded his hands on the table surface. If it was meant to calm Loki down, it was failing. Loki reached the door through which Tony Stark had just disappeared. “Do you remember the two names I spoke of?”

Loki’s hands latched onto the doorknob, his gaze firmly down, but he didn’t move to open it. He pressed his lips together for a moment, remembering those names. He remembered every little detail of the events inside the night shop, really. “Iris,” He answered with a voice thick with fear and panic, “And Marie.”

“Iris was his little niece,” Thor explained. Loki could hear anger in his voice, as well as disgust. “He abused her for years, but he was caught and he went to jail, and when he got out, he started a whole new life, right here in this city.” The more he spoke, the angrier he got. “Marie was a little girl who lived right next to him. She was eight at the time. When her parents found out what their neighbor had done to their daughter, they didn’t go to the cops. They talked to Tony Stark instead and they asked him to make Mark Carey pay for what he did. That’s why I put a bullet between his eyes.”

It was a lot of information to digest, and Loki wasn’t sure if any of it was true, but … Why would Thor lie? Why would he bother coming up with a story like that? Just to calm him down, to make him stay? He doubted Thor cared whether he stayed or not which lead Loki to the conclusion that it had to be true.

Slowly, carefully, still expected a gun somehow, he turned to look at Thor to find him still sitting at the table. His hands that had been previously folded were now balled into tight, hard fists, and his dark blue eyes were fixed on him. Loki couldn’t help but shudder beneath that gaze. Thor was angry, but it wasn’t directed at him, that much he could tell.

“I’ve killed before and not every man was a pedophile, but each and every one of them had it coming for one reason or another, whether it was because of some heinous crime they committed, money or something else,” Thor continued, “But that’s just my job. Tony Stark gives me a name, I uncover all the right information, and if I have to, I pull the trigger.” He paused for a moment. The anger in his gaze was already dissipating. “You’re a seventeen year old kid with an abusive stepdad who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m not going to kill you for that.”

Loki leaned back against the door, one hand casually curled around the doorknob behind him, a part of him still prepared to run if he had to, or he could just leave, but he found that he didn’t want to. Still, he didn’t like the look Thor gave him, his dark blue eyes filled with something akin to sadness.

“I don’t want your pity,” He said curtly. He hadn’t meant to sound so mean. “We live in a city where no one cares about anyone and I’m not going to be fooled into thinking that, all of a sudden, someone does care about me.”

“I don’t pity you, Loki,” Thor said.

Finally, he let go of the doorknob and pushed himself away from the wood, moving to take a seat at the table as well, and opposite of where Thor was sitting. He remained cautious, though. He was still dealing with a man he hardly knew, after all. “Good,” He said with a nod, his emerald green eyes locking with Thor’s dark blue ones. He needed Thor to see that he wasn’t going to take any of his pitying and he certainly wasn’t going to let him feel sorry for him. “So what happens now?”

Thor threw him a little smile. “Now we have breakfast,” He started, “And then you do your homework.”

Loki groaned loudly. “You just ruined everything.”

-x-x-x-

He didn’t know where Thor was. He’d left some time around noon, promising Loki that he wouldn’t be gone for too long, but it was nine in the evening now and he still wasn’t back. Loki refused to admit that a part of him, no matter how small that part was, was worried. He definitely refused to admit that he felt safer with Thor around. No, he’d needed a few hours to himself. It had enabled him to straighten out his thoughts, and he’d come to the conclusion that he believed Thor when he’d told him that he wasn’t going to hurt him and that he didn’t pity him. Thor didn’t seem like the type to pity anyone.

When the TV could no longer interest him, Loki switched it off and headed into the bathroom. It had been ages since he’d taken a bath, and with Thor not home yet, he figured there was no one to stop him. At Richard’s place, he never took a bath. He didn’t want to risk Richard catching him in such a vulnerable position. It was actually really sad that he felt safer here than he did at his own home. He just _knew_ Thor wouldn’t come into the bathroom while he was in it.

He soaked for about half an hour before he climbed out of the tub again, only to realize that he really couldn’t wear his own clothes anymore. They stunk, but he had to wear something, so he grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on; one large T-shirt and fresh underwear that were a few sizes too big. He’d search for a pair of sweatpants in Thor’s bedroom or something.

Just as he carded his thin fingers through his wet, jet black hair, he heard noise outside of the bathroom. Thor was back. Loki quickly smoothed his hair back, not wanting it to fall before his eyes, and exited the bathroom to find Thor sitting in front of the TV, a beer in his hand. Fuck, who was he kidding? He was glad Thor was back.

“I brought Chinese food,” Thor started, his head turning, his dark blue eyes falling on Loki’s form, “I hope–” For some reason, he didn’t finish his sentence, those dark eyes of his raking over Loki’s body instead. He blinked a second later and quickly turned his attention back to the TV. “I hope you like Chinese food.”

Loki’s face flushed red, heat creeping up his neck, and his heart skipped a beat. He didn’t understand why Thor had been stunned into silence for a second there, and he definitely didn’t understand why those dark blue eyes had shifted up and down his body. He glanced down at the oversized T-shirt that covered most of his thighs. His shoulder had slipped free, the collar being too big. His boxer shorts were showing, too, peeking out from underneath the shirt, and for some reason, Loki couldn’t help but tug at the T-shirt, pulling it down, wanting to cover himself a bit more.

“Uhm, yeah,” He said, knowing that his confusion was so obvious in his voice, “I love Chinese food.”

He cursed himself for suddenly acting like an idiot, for _sounding_ like an idiot. No longer bothering with the shirt, he reached up and folded a wet strand of hair behind his ear instead, just wanting to have something to do with his hands, and when he walked further into the living room, he kept his head down to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Let me grab some pants first,” He said, hoping he sounded steadier now. He threw a quick glance at Thor and saw that he had turned slightly red in the face, too. For some reason, that helped him relax, because Thor looked embarrassed and mortified, and Loki found that quite amusing. “Then we can have dinner.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful Reisfuchs has made this awesome drawing of Loki at the end of chapter 4. I wanted to share that awesomeness with the rest of you; http://sta.sh/093xec5nhhq Isn't that just so incredibly perfect? :D
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this new chapter!

He shouldn’t be clutching at Thor’s middle so tightly, but the idea of letting go … It unsettled Loki, because he knew that the moment he unhooked his arms, he’d need to get off of the motorcycle and enter that house. It was late, after ten, so he knew Richard was home. The thought of having to face him after everything that had happened, it sent shivers down his spine, but Thor wasn’t pushing him, wasn’t telling him to move even though they’d been parked in front of the house for at least two minute now.

With a sigh, because what other choice did he have, he straightened his back and untangled his fingers, reluctantly letting go of Thor’s waist. He pulled off his helmet and clenched it tightly between his arm and side.

“I can go in for you,” Thor said, looking over his shoulder at him. Loki silently thanked him for not judging him or making fun of the fear that had to be so obvious in his emerald green eyes. “You don’t have to face that bastard if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Loki said, shaking his head as he threw another look at the house. His bike was still chained down by the faded white picket fence and he made a mental note to come and pick it up on Monday after school. Richard shouldn’t be home then. “I can’t avoid him,” He said after a short silence, “I don’t want to be afraid of him.” Or he wanted to _try_ and not be afraid of him. It frustrated him that just the thought of having to face Richard had his hands trembling.

“I’ll come with you,” Thor said.

To that, Loki didn’t object. He climbed off of the motorcycle and hung the helmet on one of the hand clutches, Thor doing the same. Turning to the house, he inhaled sharply and clenched his hands into fists, hoping that that would stop the trembling. Knowing that Thor was right with him made him feel partially safe, though, because he knew Thor would protect him, and with that in mind, he walked towards the front door.

He didn’t bother knocking, and when he took the first step inside, a familiar sense of apprehension settled in the pit of his stomach. He was used to walking around on his toes here, vigilant at all times, because if he could avoid a confrontation with Richard, he would grab that opportunity with both his hands. Sure, he mouthed at him, called him names and cursed him, but none of that meant he wasn’t afraid of the man. The trembling of his hands was proof enough of that, because in the end, he still got beaten up by him.

He walked deeper into the house, his steps light while Thor’s sounded heavy behind him, and his gaze swept around his surroundings. Noise came from the living room, and as soon as Loki entered it, he spotted Richard sitting in front of the TV. The bastard hadn’t even heard them enter. Maybe he was drunk off his ass. That would certainly help matters. If he was passed out, he couldn’t hurt him.

But Richard wasn’t passed out. At the sound of footsteps nearby, he jumped up from the couch and spun around, his brown eyes widening the moment they caught sight of Loki.

Loki couldn’t help but take a step back, bumping into Thor who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, fingers squeezing gently, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. He could do this. For once, he had the upper hand.

“I’m just here to pick up some clothes,” He told him, forcing himself to look Richard right in the eyes.

“Fuck no,” Richard spat. Disgust and anger contorted his features. “You think you can just come back here after humiliating me?”

No matter how scared he was of Richard, no matter how scared he was of getting beaten, it never canceled out his anger. That man had turned his childhood into a nightmare. That man had beaten him so many times already that no one was even surprised anymore. It all showed how fucked up his life was, because of one asshole.

“Oh, so I can’t humiliate you, but you can beat the shit out of me whenever you feel like it?” He asked, his voice a high pitch full of incredulity. He took a step closer to Richard, knowing that he shouldn’t, and apparently Thor thought the same. The hand on his shoulder tightened, preventing him from moving too far away. Maybe that was his way of protecting him, of preventing him from getting hurt, but right now, Loki really fucking hated it. More than anything, he wanted to get into Richard’s face, and maybe, just maybe, Richard would lash out and Thor would intervene. Fuck, he’d love to see Thor kicking the shit out of that asshole!

“And who the fuck is that?” Richard demanded to know, waving a hand towards Thor.

Thor didn’t give Loki a chance to answer that question. “Get your stuff, Loki,” He said, sounding calm as ever.

Thor was probably right for intervening, but that didn’t stop Loki from sending Richard a cold-blooded look before spinning around and walking out of the living room. He hurried into his bedroom and grabbed a backpack, an old one he hadn’t used in ages, and filled it with whatever clean clothes he could find. When he felt he had enough to get him through at least two weeks, he grabbed his schoolbooks and tossed them into the bag, too. The final thing he added were a few packs of cigarettes he kept hidden all over his room.

Two minutes had gone by perhaps, but by the time he entered the living room again, he found Thor pinning Richard down against the wall, a hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard enough to have his lips turn a sickly shade of blue. Richard’s hands were scrambling to remove the hand from his throat, but Thor’s grip didn’t even falter. Loki would say the sight shocked him, but it didn’t. Fuck no, it satisfied him!

“I’m ready,” Loki said, announcing his presence. The edges of his lips curled upward when Richard’s gaze shot toward him, pleading with him.

Thor pulled Richard away from the wall, just a few inches, only to knock him right back against it, hard. “Next time you decide to open that filthy mouth of yours,” He warned, his head cocked sideways and his dark blue eyes almost black, “Don’t.”

The moment Thor let go of him, Richard slumped down to the floor, his hands instantly covering the sore skin of his neck. Loki had an idea of what he was feeling right now, what with having been at the receiving end of that hand once, and it only added to his satisfaction. Sure, Richard deserved worse and maybe Thor should have kept him pinned down just a little bit longer since it had been such an amusing sight, but for now, it was more than enough for Loki. And Thor displaying such raw power, all to defend and protect him … Loki felt that flush creep up his face again.

When Thor walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, asking for his attention, Loki turned away from his stepfather – or he tried to. The look Richard shot him sent cold shivers down Loki’s spine, because any other day, that look would mean Richard was about to explode on him. It meant he wanted to rain down hell on him, and a part of Loki still expected his stepfather to charge at him, to kick and beat him, whether Thor were there or not.

Loki felt his chest tighten painfully, and somehow Thor must have noticed. He squeezed Loki’s shoulder and called his name, his voice deep, like thunder. Loki looked at him, catching a hint of concern in his gaze. He blinked and nodded once, silently telling Thor he was alright, because nothing happened. Richard didn’t storm at him. He was a coward who wouldn’t dare lay a hand on him now.

As Thor guided him away from the living room, Loki’s eyes kept flickering over his shoulder, still expecting Richard to follow them and cause a scene. But nothing happened. The second the cold evening air hit him, Loki felt better. The tightness to his chest lessened and the trembling of his hands stopped. His entire body felt lighter, like he wasn’t being crushed by a heavy and cutting weight that consisted out of nothing but fear and anxiety.

He turned his attention to Thor when his hand finally dropped away. He smiled at him, the image of him pinning down Richard still flitting before his vision. He’d thoroughly enjoyed that, though he wondered what exactly Richard had said for Thor to choke the life out of him. Maybe he shouldn’t ask. Maybe it was better if he didn’t know, but his curiosity got the better of him, as always. People always said it was curiosity that killed the cat, but in his case, it might actually be more than just a proverb.

“What did he say?” He asked.

Thor shrugged indifferently. “Nothing that wouldn’t surprise you,” He replied, and the tone in which he spoke told Loki that he wasn’t going to say more about it. It surprised him that he knew that just by the tone of his voice. When they got to his motorcycle, Thor handed him one of the helmets. “Let’s get out of here before I change my mind and actually kill the man.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Loki said.

Thor said nothing to that. It was probably for the best.

They drove back to Thor’s apartment and as they got further and further from Richard’s house, Loki felt a smile fill his face. He held on tightly to Thor and let his head rest against the back of his shoulder. There would come a day where he wouldn’t have to return to that house at all. There would come a day where he could leave his past behind. On his eighteenth birthday, he would collect all his belongings and just … leave. He had no idea where he’d go or what he’d do, but that didn’t scare him. Richard scared him.

And as soon as he found himself inside Thor’s apartment again, Loki sucked in a deep breath and forced away all thoughts of his stepfather. They were pointless now. Richard would never find him here. He was safe here.

He moved into the living room and dropped the contents of the backpack onto the couch. He folded all of his clothes, not planning to change into something of his own just yet. He was still wearing oversized clothes, but he felt comfortable wearing Thor’s clothes. The books he stacked neatly underneath the small coffee table in front of the TV, thinking they wouldn’t be in Thor’s way there. Next he checked the amount of cigarettes he’d taken, only to sigh softly when he realized he hadn’t taken a lighter with him.

“It’s getting late,” Came Thor’s voice. Loki looked over his shoulder and found Thor standing in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, a beer in hand. There was a sort of serenity lining his features, almost as though he felt content. Why, Loki didn’t know. “You should try and get some sleep.”

Loki closed the backpack and set it down beside the couch. There was much he wanted to say to him, one of the things being that he wasn’t a child who needed to be told to go to bed, but the truth was that he did feel tired. Going back to the house, it had drained him, physically and emotionally.

“Thank you,” He said softly. Fuck, he sounded so … He didn’t know how he sounded like. Vulnerable? Somehow, it didn’t matter.

Thor’s dark blue eyes softened.

With his folded clothes in hand, Loki headed into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it for a few seconds, his head thumping against the wood, once, twice, but soft enough so that Thor wouldn’t hear it. He didn’t know what was going on in his life right now, really, and he certainly didn’t know why Thor was doing what he was doing. It made no sense. He’d been convinced that in this city, it was every man for himself, but Thor, despite everything, despite what Thor had done the evening that they met, he had shown Loki nothing but kindness. It confused him and it made his head feel thick with chaos. He didn’t like that.

After putting aside the bundle of clothing and stripping out of the oversized shirt and sweatpants, he pulled on some sleeping clothes and crawled underneath the sheets, pulling them tightly around him. They hardly smelled of Thor anymore which he didn’t like either. The thought that he was right outside the bedroom helped him settle, however. He could hear his own breathing evening out, and as he listening to the soft noises on the other side of the door, he fell asleep.

-x-x-x-

It was nothing like the oblivion he craved. Image after image flitted before him, focused and sharp and so very real. He watched Thor angrily shoving Richard up against the wall, but this time, Richard’s fury matched Thor’s. His muddled brown eyes fell on him, and Loki stepped back – or he wanted to, but his legs no longer listened to his mind. Richard screamed at him, calling him all sorts of names and accusing him of ruining his life. Loki wanted to scream back, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

Thor let go of Richard and turned to Loki, his gaze full of hostility and resentment. He and Richard started walking towards him, cornering him, cursing him, but Loki still couldn’t move or make a sound. They raised their hands, and Loki wrapped his arms defensively around his head, begging them not to hurt him. He couldn’t scream, but he could beg. And he could cry. They laughed at him, calling him weak and pathetic before they kicked him. Loki fell down and shouted out in pain, but–

He woke with a jolt, sitting up in a heartbeat, the bed-sheets sticking to his sweaty skin. With trembling hands, Loki rubbed damp hair out of his eyes and glanced around, unsure of where the hell he was. Breathing was difficult, his chest was heaving. He couldn’t get any oxygen into his lungs, no matter how much he gasped for air. With wide, tearful eyes, he stared out in front of him, into nothingness, unable to un-see Richard and Thor coming at him, unable to un-hear their laughs and taunts. He still felt pain shooting through his body when he remembered how hard they’d kicked him even though none of it had been real. It was ridiculous. _He_ was being ridiculous.

There came a soft knock on the bedroom door.

Loki’s eyes snapped toward the sound and he scrambled back until he hit the wooden framework of the bed behind him. His vision started to swim with the lack of oxygen and nausea that settled in the pit of stomach. Loki slapped a hand over his mouth, refusing to throw up. He stopped breathing altogether when he realized the first few tears were escaping him. Fuck, eight year olds got nightmares, but there he was, crying because of a stupid fucking dream!

“Loki?” Thor asked through the door. “Are you alright?”

A few seconds ticked by, Loki actually counting them, and once he trusted his voice enough and once he was certain that he wasn’t going to throw up, he let his hand drop away from his mouth. He swallowed heavily, forcing himself to calm down, and said: “I’m fine.”

“Loki …”

“I said I’m fine!” He snapped. He jumped out of bed, no longer able to stay still, and brushed his hands through his hair, only to tug at it a moment later. It was just a dream so why was he getting so upset over it? He’d had dreams like that a hundred times before, so why was he freaking out? The answer was really simple, actually, but Loki refused to admit that the violent racing of his heart and the shaking of his limbs were due to the fact that Thor, too, had been in his dream – for the first time since he met him.

And he’d hurt him.

Fuck, none of those thoughts were helping him! The door opening and Thor slowly walking inside didn’t help either. As soon as Thor took a step towards him, Loki stepped back, recoiling into himself, and pressed himself into the wall. He wanted nothing more than to disappear right now.

“It was a dream,” He heard himself say. He didn’t feel in control of himself anymore. “Just a dream.”

“Loki–” Thor lifted a hand, as though he wanted to reach out to him, touch him, but Loki flinched.

“Don’t,” He gasped, waiting for a blow that he knew he couldn’t stop. Everything was true, after all. He was weak and pathetic, and no matter how strong he tried to prove himself, there was no denying that it was all just a façade. And shit, of all the times to crack, he cracked now? No, no way. He refused to shatter into a thousand little pieces. “Just leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Thor said, nodding. He stepped back, giving Loki the space he needed, only to hesitate suddenly, looking back at Loki with sorrowful eyes. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” He said, “I just heard you scream and I–”

Loki silenced him with a hard, pointed look, his lips pressed together so tightly they formed two white, thin lines.

Still, it didn’t seem enough to silence Thor, because he added: “No one is going to hurt you here.”

“That doesn’t fucking help,” Loki hissed, rolling his eyes at him. His fear and panic were slowly transforming into anger and he welcomed it with open arms. “I know who you are, Thor, and you saying shit like that, it’s hypocritical. I watched you shoot a man to death, remember?”

Thor didn’t move for a few, long seconds, Loki’s words seemingly having hit something inside of him. He blinked a few times, and Loki could see thoughts turning in his mind, but he had no idea what they were. He wished he knew, though throwing nasty and offensive stuff at his head like that wasn’t going to help. It didn’t matter. Right now, he couldn’t stop himself. He felt vulnerable so he needed people to stay the fuck away.

“And because I shot a man, that means I would hurt anyone, right?” Thor asked, one eyebrow rising. “That means I would murder a seventeen year old who just woke up from a nightmare?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Loki said, eyes flashing and his lips curling into a sneer, “Don’t you fucking dare reduce me to an abused, scared, little boy!”

Thor raised his hands and lowered his head a little, glancing at Loki from underneath his eyelashes. It was an act of surrender, but it only pissed him off that much more. Did Thor think he couldn’t take it? Did he think that he would break at the slightest indication of a threat? Or did he not take him seriously? Did he think he was acting out, throwing a tantrum?

“Fuck!” Loki screamed. Not knowing what to do with himself, he turned to the wall and punched a fist against it, imagining it was Richard he was punching, but the thrill that fantasy brought along didn’t outweighed the pain that shot through his hand. He quickly pulled it back, gasping, and cradled it closely to his chest. “Holy fucking shit,” He muttered under his breath. With his back turned to Thor, he looked down at his injured hand, two knuckles chafes, and little drops of blood already broke their way to the surface.

“Loki,” Thor said gently, asking for his attention.

Angrily, mostly at himself now for being stupid enough to hurt himself, he dropped down on the edge of the bed. Pain radiated from his knuckles to his wrist, and fuck, he hoped he hadn’t messed up his hand! When Thor sat down beside him, he didn’t even bother sending him a look. The guy knew how pissed off he was, yet that didn’t stop him from gingerly picking up Loki’s injured hand, it for a second, his touch surprisingly delicate. He _did_ look up at Thor then.

“You’ll be fine,” Thor said as he lowered Loki’s hand, “It’ll hurt for a few days, but it’s not broken.”

“You’re a doctor all of a sudden?” He couldn’t help but ask skeptically.

Thor huffed out a small laugh. “Trust me when I say that I’ve seen plenty of broken hands in my lifetime,” He said, “Are you gonna be okay now?”

Loki nodded as he stared down at his hand lying awkwardly in his lap. The sharp pain was ebbing away, leaving only a dull ache.

“I’ll let you get some rest then.”

At that, Loki’s head snapped up. “Stay,” The word slipped away from him before he could stop it. He was making little sense, he knew that, but he was too tired to think about it. He was too tired to try and make sense of whatever it was that he was feeling. He ran his uninjured hand through his hair, knowing it looked like a mess after his … meltdown. “If I’m alone, I’ll dream again.”

Thor sucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down, as though he was hesitating, and Loki willed him to stay. “Alright,” He said softly after a moment, nodding, “I’ll stay.”

Loki climbed back into bed, careful of his hand, and lied down on his side. He watched Thor lie down beside him, obviously trying to keep as much distance in between them as possible, and Loki didn’t mind. If anything, he felt grateful. While he wanted Thor to stay close, to protect him even in his sleep, he didn’t want him too close. He just wanted him there, with him.

Silence settled in the bedroom, and as Loki listened to Thor’s even breathing, his eyes fluttered shut for a second time that night, exhaustion claiming his body and mind. His limbs suddenly felt too heavy to move anymore, and before he realized it, he fell asleep. This time he didn’t dream of Richard, though. He didn’t know what he dreamt, but it didn’t matter, because in the morning, he remembered none of it.

-x-x-x-

When he woke up, he felt surprisingly well rested in spite of the stressful night. He hoped that today would be a quieter day.

A soft snoring beside him drew his attention. Thor lay on his back, an arm spread out, and the tips of his fingers touched Loki’s back. Loki couldn’t help but smile. A part of him had expected Thor to sneak away once he’d fallen asleep, but there he lay, sprawled out.

Carefully, as not to wake him, Loki got up and snuck out of the bedroom. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely up, casting everything in a soft orange glow, and a cold chill ran down his back. He wrapped his arms around himself, wanting to keep warm, but failing. He looked around for a sweater or something else that could warm him up, only for his eyes to fall on his old backpack. He instantly took hold of it and searched for one of the cigarette-cartons. He quickly fished out a cigarette and put it between his lips as he headed into the kitchen. There, he found a lighter in one the drawers and opened the small window right above the sink.

Once the cigarette was lit, Loki jumped up to sit onto the edge of the sink so he could blow the smoke out of the window. He already felt warmer, and the view helped him relax, too. The little window looked out over a little street where two people were walking their tiny dogs. Loki admired their bravery to leave the house so early on a Sunday morning. Or perhaps he was mistaking their bravery for foolishness.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Loki turned toward the voice and found Thor standing in the doorway, a hand rubbing away the last of his sleepiness from his eyes. Swallowing heavily, suddenly feeling like a small child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Loki shifted uncomfortably where he sat and gazed down at the cigarette. Maybe he shouldn’t be smoking inside Thor’s apartment.

“Give that here,” Thor sighed in disappointment, which got to Loki surprisingly. Thor closed the distance between them and snatched the cigarette from him, dumping it into the sink and opening up the faucet to make sure it was out. “That’s one nasty habit you have here.”

Loki lifted an eyebrow, incredulity lining his features. Of all the things Thor couldn’t stand, it was smoking? What a hypocrite. “I won’t light another cigarette in your home again,” He said, “That was inconsiderate of me.” On the one hand, he didn’t want to disappoint Thor, but on the other … Like hell was he going to quit just because Thor hated it. He’d just have to do it outside or at school. Easy enough.

Thor shook his head a little and rolled his eyes. “How’s your hand?” He asked, changing the subject as he moved around the kitchen in search of food. He found an unopened box of cereal and a fresh carton of milk in the fridge.

Just the sight of it had Loki’s stomach rumbling.

“It’s fine,” He replied as he jumped off of the edge of the sink and took a seat at the table. He flexed his hand, his knuckles protesting a bit, but God knew he’d felt worse pain in his life. Fuck, he still had a small cut on his cheek that wasn’t completely healed. “It’s still sore, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He smiled when Thor handed him a full bowl of cereal and a spoon.

“I gotta work today,” Thor informed him, “Are you gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah,” He said, knowing it was rude to talk with a mouth full of food, “I got my schoolbooks so I can catch up on some homework, and you have a flat screen and Netflix, so I’m sure I can keep busy.”

Thor snorted. “Yeah, I had a feeling you would,” He said, a playful twinkle to his eyes, “Don’t get into trouble.”

“Trust me,” Loki looked up at Thor through thick lashes, nothing but sincerity in his emerald green gaze, “I’m not planning to leave this place.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was strange how quickly the weather could change. Just a few days ago, the nights had been freezing cold, but now the temperatures were surprisingly pleasant for a Thursday evening. Others thought the same, because in the distance, near the entrance of the park, Loki heard different voices. The area where he and Thor were currently at was abandoned, though, and boring.

For a while, it had been fascinating to simply watch Thor stand by the trees, the contours of his body emphasized by the dirty yellow light of the old lighting pole. He was obviously tense, the muscles to his upper body contorted in ways that Loki hadn’t thought possible. He’d wanted to stand up from where he was sitting on the bench and walk over to him, squeezing his upper arms just to check if they were real. The way Thor’s blue eyes were narrowed all the time, focusing on anything and everything that moved, only added to the vigilance he expressed.

But half an hour had gone by now where nothing had happened and Loki was regretting begging Thor to let him come along. He could have been lying on the couch in Thor’s apartment, watching some show and eating popcorn. With a bored sigh, he grabbed hold of a cigarette he’d kept in the pocket of his jeans for days now, having been unable to smoke it until now, and placed the butt of it between his lips. It was a bit dented and it bent at a weird angle, but it was still smokable.

“Are you sure you read the time and place correctly?” He asked. Or maybe Tony Stark, that asshole, had given them the wrong time and place. Was that possible?

As soon as the fumes reached his lungs, Loki let his head drop back, eyes closing. The relaxation he experienced was only momentary.

“It’s correct,” Thor said, then suddenly, “Are you kidding me?” He sounded shocked and annoyed at the same time.

Loki’s eyes snapped open and he instantly locked gazes with the man, not even surprised that Thor looked disgusted as he glanced at the cigarette between his lips.

“Really?” He asked, glancing at the cigarette between his fingers. “Fuck, who died of cancer in your family?” He shouldn’t sound so callous.

Thor rolled his eyes, which wasn’t really the kind of reaction Loki had expected. “Oh, I’m sorry for expressing interest in your health,” He droned sarcastically, “And FYI, smoking isn’t hot or anything, if that’s the reason you’re doing it.”

It was a little insulting to say the least. There wasn’t a hair on his head that was interested in being attractive to others. Fuck, there was no one he wanted to be attractive for. Only that was a lie. There was one person he wouldn’t mind getting such attention from.

“My mom died of cancer,” He said suddenly. Why, he didn’t know. “Lung cancer. She never smoked a cigarette in her life.”

At that, Thor turned to him a bit more, his shoulder leaning against a tree. “So what,” He said, those dark blue eyes of him even darker in the shadows that surrounded him, “This is your big fuck you to God or something?”

Loki hummed softly, staring down at the cigarette between his fingers, the fleshy pad of his thumb rubbing over the butt of it. “To life,” He settled on, because like hell did he believe in God. If there was a God, there wouldn’t be cities like the one they lived in – old and forgotten and dying.

“Am I interrupting?” A new voice sounded. “I feel like you’re having a moment.”

Loki’s head turned towards the new, unannounced and, frankly, unwelcome presence. His eyes landed on a tall and broad man, much like Thor, but different. This guy’s strength seemed more subtle, power running just underneath his bronze skin. His short blond hair and light blue eyes reminded him of Thor, too, but there was an acute sharpness to his features that warned Loki not to trust him. His smile was smug and fake.

He threw his half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and stamped a foot on it.

“Detective Rogers,” Thor said respectfully, telling Loki that this was the guy they had been waiting for. He walked over to the man and shook his hand. Loki did _not_ like the familiarity between those two. Also, Detective Rogers? What the fuck? “I should have known you’d be the one showing up.”

“Stark said it was urgent,” The detective said. Only then did it dawn on Loki that he was a dirty cop as the movies would put it, although that shouldn’t surprise him. The city was raging with them, but Loki never actually met one. In fact, he’d never really come in contact with the police except for that one time a few years ago, because he’d been stupid enough to try and steal a car, thinking he could have used it to get away from Richard. “I got some information for you,” The detective continued, pulling Loki out of his thoughts, “The two detectives on the murder case are straight, I’m afraid, so there is no way Tony can buy their silence.”

Thor nodded, letting the words register. He sank down on the bench beside Loki – which Loki was secretly thankful for. He didn’t like that detective for some reason, which was saying a lot about how fucked up he was considering he _did_ like a murderer.

“I figured,” Thor muttered unhappily, “What else?”

“As far as I can tell, they only have that picture they pulled off of a security camera,” Rogers explained. He didn’t move from where he stood, which unnerved Loki. The man was like a statue, unmoving and unyielding. He seemed untouchable and he knew it, too. “That’s nothing to go on, so they’re just grasping at straws.”

Thor let out a relieved breath.

“The kid, however, is in trouble.”

Loki, who hadn’t been able to look away from him before, now stared him right in the eyes, and for a brief moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“What do you mean?” Thor asked with unmistakable alarm in his voice. Any other day, Loki would have reveled at it, would have felt his face flush because of it, but right now, he only had eyes for the detective – the detective whose lips curved upward into a small, barely noticeable smile. “Steve?” Thor added, his voice rough and admonishing.

“The picture is enough to put him in the proximity of the crime scene,” Steve explained, waving a casual hand around, and Loki wanted to wipe the arrogance right off of his face. Why was he even being grandiose about it, like he was announcing the end of the world and he _enjoyed_ it? “But they found his fingerprints at the night shop, too.”

Loki’s mind flashed back to the small bottle of rum he’d tossed at Thor’s head.

“And then there is the witness,” He concluded. He had the nerve to shrug a shoulder, and he didn’t even grant Loki a look. No, he kept all of his attention on Thor, as if Loki wasn’t worth looking at. “A woman saw him enter the shop as she got home.”

Loki remembered the car that had drawn his attention. He’d been afraid it was Richard. Fuck, why didn’t he think about it afterwards? He should have told Thor about it. Maybe they could have done something about it before the woman talked to the cops, the _good_ cops, but now it was too late. No wonder those detectives had come to talk to him. The crime scene must have screamed his name at them.

“They’re not really interested in him, though,” Steve said. He buried his hands in the pockets of his black coat. “But they’re very interested in using him to get to you, Thor. They know you two are somehow involved in their case, together.”

Thor all but jumped up from where he sat, making Loki flinch at the sudden movement. He couldn’t help it. His entire body was in a state of high alert, his ears practically ringing and his skin feeling too tight to contain him. But in spite of that, he couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried.

“And what can you do about it?” Thor asked with an unstable voice.

“Me? Very little,” Steve replied, shrugging again, both shoulders this time. “One, I’m not the main detective on the case. It’s just your tough luck that Detectives Barnes and Romanov are. They want to nail you. Two, I can alter details in a statement, I can make evidence magically disappear, but in this case, there is too much. The kid’s screwed, and so are you.”

Loki was finally able to stand, slowly and smoothly, and he took a step closer to the detective, needing all of his self-control in order not to launch himself at the guy and scratch his eyes out. “Are you enjoying this?” He asked, voice dripping with venom.

When Steve’s eyes landed on him, there was something akin to admiration lacing his features. “You got spice, kid, I’ll give you that,” He said, and somehow he managed to look down at him. He even lifted his chin a little. “But you got mixed up in affairs you know nothing about. You should have thought about that before you moved in with a guy the cops have been gunning after for years.”

He felt the blood drain from his face.

“Oh, you think no one knows?” Steve clicked his tongue together twice. “The police know every move you make and the moment you slip up, they’re going to nail you. Then they’re going to try and make a deal with you; in exchange for your testimony against Thor here, they’re gonna let you go and you’re gonna be so tempted, too, because life in juvie is hell, but you look smart enough to know that.”

Loki fought down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He would never even _think_ about ratting out Thor to the cops! It was preposterous! Thor had done nothing but help him and protect him, and Loki wasn’t going to thank him for that by betraying him. Fuck, he hoped Thor knew that. He threw a quick glance sideways, but Thor kept his eyes firmly on Steve, deliberately avoiding Loki. It stung.

“Does Tony know any of this?” Thor asked.

Who the hell cared what Tony Stark knew or not? Loki balled his hands into fists, nails digging painfully into his palms, but he didn’t take notice. He was pissed off, most of his anger directed at Steve fucking Rogers – though there was no denying that the racing of his heart had nothing to do with anger. God, he just needed Thor to look at him and see that he was loyal to him, that he would never talk to anyone about what he saw all those evenings ago. It felt like ages ago already.

“Not yet, why?” Steve asked, curious, an eyebrow rising.

“Don’t tell him any of this yet,” Thor said. There was something commanding to his voice, something that drew Loki right out of his thoughts and toward Thor. He couldn’t help but move towards him, wanting to be closer to him. He felt safer then, like Thor’s proximity was enough to help him calm down. “I’ll fix this.”

Steve pursed his lips, doubt in his light blue eyes.

“Come on, Rogers,” Thor snapped, irritated.

“I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut,” Steve grinned dirtily, “Just don’t forget that it’s Stark who gives me the paycheck at the end of the month, and I’m sure as hell not gonna lie to him.”

So his loyalties lay with Tony Stark, not with Thor, which probably meant they were screwed in the long run. Loki watched the detective walk away, a part of him pleased to see his backside, but that joy was nothing compared to the anxiety and panic that filled him and threatened to suffocate him. He quickly stood in front of Thor, looking up at him with wide, frightened eyes while he grasped at the edge of his black leather vest with his fingers. He wouldn’t even blame Thor if he left him here. He’d screwed up.

“I won’t betray you,” He said, the words tumbling from his tongue, hoping Thor would stay, “I haven’t told the detectives anything and I won’t either, I swear!”

So very gently, Thor placed both his hands on either side of Loki’s face, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into his skin. “I know,” He said, his voice low and reassuring. He smiled and his dark blue eyes revealed nothing but encouragement. Loki stared at him, full of admiration, because the world could very well crumble around them as they stood there, but he looked as tall and strong as ever. “Calm down, Loki,” He said. Their gazes never unlocked. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, desperation in his eyes.

“Of course not,” Thor said, confused and concerned.

Relief flooded Loki, and without thinking, he clutched a hand around the back of Thor’s neck. His skin was soft beneath his touch. There was a beat where nothing happened, where they just stared at each other, and then Loki pulled Thor down. Their lips met. Loki felt a surge of electricity run through his veins, pooling inside his chest, and his heart no longer beat violently within his chest because he was afraid. It was thrumming with energy because this was a kind of excitement that he’d never experienced before.

His eyes fluttered shut when he felt Thor’s lips move against his, rough, but warm – and then they were gone, Thor pulling himself free of Loki’s grip.

“Stop,” Thor gasped. His lips were red and slightly swollen and Loki couldn’t look away from them. “You’re upset. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

It was offensive to say the least. Did Thor think him that immature? Did he think he wasn’t old enough to know what he was doing? Loki’s first instinct was to lash out or to make an offhanded remark, but the way Thor was looking at him now, with pity and regret in his eyes, felt like a slap to his face. Loki stumbled back and ran a hand through his hair, nails scratching over his scalp. He cursed himself, because yeah, he was a fucking idiot! Why would Thor want to kiss someone who looked like he did – thin, almost gauntly so, with nothing but sharp angles and long limbs.

“Spare me your pity, you asshole,” He spat out bitterly. He turned his back to him before Thor could spot the hurt in his eyes, because fuck, was this what rejection felt like? He ran a thumb across his lower lip, still feeling Thor’s mouth on his, and _God_ , it had felt so fucking good.

And then Thor ruined everything.

Thor sighed loudly, the noise full of expressions Loki didn’t bother to figure out. He couldn’t even look at him right now. He was afraid he’d just cave and give into his stupidity. He was afraid he’d throw his arms around him and pull him close, because this was Thor and he wanted to be … his. Thor protected him and kept him safe and treated him well. Only Thor apparently saw him as nothing more than a seventeen year old kid who didn’t know anything about anything.

“Let’s go home,” Thor said after a long silence.

Loki didn’t object to that. He longed for a shower, for half of an hour of focusing on nothing but the feeling of hot water rinsing his skin – half an hour of trying not to think about anything or anyone, not even about Thor. So he followed him through the park without a word being spoken and climbed onto the motorcycle.

As they made their way to Thor’s apartment, driving down dark and empty streets, Loki didn’t cling to him anymore as he did before.

-x-x-x-

The kiss wasn’t mentioned again, but maybe that was for the best. The last thing Loki wanted was for things to grow awkward between them, and since he enjoyed staying at Thor’s place, he’d rather not screw that up. He didn’t even want to entertain the idea of having to return to Richard.

Days went by and Thor was hardly ever home. Loki didn’t know what the guy did when he was out. He didn’t want to know, really. If he remained blissfully ignorant, he couldn’t tell anything to those detectives. Of course, whenever Thor _was_ home, Loki couldn’t help but stare at him whenever possible. The memory of those lips nearly haunted him. Fuck, it wasn’t even amusing anymore, because Loki refused to pine after him. Thor had been clear about the boundaries. He wasn’t interested in him and Loki wasn’t going to stoop as low as to groveling.

It was getting late that evening and Thor still wasn’t back from … work. His homework was done, there wasn’t anything on TV that caught his attention, and he’d even gone as far as doing the dishes to keep him busy. Running out of ideas, Loki settled on grabbing a pack of cigarettes. Not that he planned on smoking in Thor’s apartment. It was obvious Thor didn’t like it and Loki sure as hell wasn’t going to be a brash guest.

He made his way downstairs, skipping a few steps on the way, and pushed open the heavy door. Voices instantly reached his ears, and Loki halted, because he knew that voice.

 _Thor_.

Carefully, not wanting to reveal his presence, he closed the door behind him and pressed his back against the brick wall of the building. Thor was talking to someone and obviously he didn’t want Loki to hear – otherwise he’d be having the conversation upstairs – and while he was well aware of how rude eavesdropping was, Loki eagerly gave into his curiosity, as always.

“So Stark doesn’t know yet?” Thor asked.

Loki wished he could see him, but he didn’t dare move closer to the edge of the building. Thor and another person were talking just around the corner, and no matter how much Loki wanted to see who that other person was, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake as he’d made before. He wasn’t going to be caught this time.

“Rogers came by,” The unknown person – a man – said, “But as far as I know, they hardly spoke of you. Then again, Roger’s mouth was soon occupied with something else, if you know what I mean.”

“Really, Bruce?” Thor sounded disgusted. “That’s not a mental image I want to entertain.”

The man, Bruce, laughed. It was a warm and genuine sound. “Sorry,” He said, though he didn’t sound like it, “But I do have some more information for you.” There was the distinct sound of papers being handed over. Damn, Loki wished he could see something! “The witness is a thirty-two years old mother. She has two kids, six and three years old.”

“Fuck,” Thor cursed under his breath, “There’s no way Stark is gonna touch her.”

“He’s pissed off, Thor,” Bruce said, “Since you can’t do your usual job, he has to rely on Fandral.”

Thor snorted. “The guy is a tool,” He said, and Loki knew him well enough to recognize disdain in his voice. Whoever this Fandral-guy was, Loki didn’t think he wanted to meet him. “So what’s Stark up to? He has to be doing something.”

“You told him you’d handle the situation,” Bruce replied, “So he’s waiting for you to fix this mess. But Thor, know that when he finds out about the witness, and he _will_ find out one way or another, he’s gonna take control. Then you can rest assured that the kid won’t be safe anymore.”

Loki swallowed heavily at that. He didn’t think he was safe when it came to Tony Stark as it were. He’d only met him once and it hadn’t been pleasant. Shit, Loki could still feel the man’s hot breath on his face when he thought back. He let his head rest back against the brick wall and focused on his breathing. Now wasn’t the time to have a panic attack.

“Stark still isn’t convinced about your methods here either,” Bruce added, suddenly sounding cautious.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Thor asked with a high, frustrated voice.

It was enough to have Loki’s curiosity peeking again. He shuffled closer to the edge and carefully glanced passed the brick stones. Thor was pacing the floor, his footsteps heavy, while Bruce was leaning against the grey pole of a streetlight. He was unlike anything Loki had expected. He was smaller than Thor and not as muscled. His dark curls were messy and greying near his temples, and he wore round glasses.

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was either this or Stark would have the shit beaten out of a seventeen year old,” He sounded regretful for some reason, causing Loki’s brow to knit together, “Besides, it was easy enough. I saved him from his abusive stepfather and he was practically eating out of the palm of my hand.”

Loki’s mind froze.

“You’re sure he’s loyal?” Bruce asked.

The first thing that flashed before his eyes was the kiss. God, he had _kissed_ Thor!

“I’m sure,” Thor answered, “but I never thought I’d feel–”

Whatever Thor said, it was lost to Loki’s ears. He turned around and hurried back inside, sprinting up the stairs and into apartment 403. His heart was raging within his chest, beating violently against his ribcage as rage flooded his veins. He’d never felt this abused and humiliated before in his life! He couldn’t think straight, his mind bursting with violent thoughts. To think he’d _liked_ him!

He tossed all of his belongings into the old backpack which only took a few minutes since he had so little to start with. What he wanted to do next was scream and destroy, but he reigned himself in, no matter how much he wanted to set fire to something.

“Loki?”

He whipped around at the sound of Thor’s voice. Fuck, he hadn’t even heard him come in as he’d been bustling about, making sure he really did get everything. But to hear Thor, to see him standing before him with a baffled look on his face, made Loki forget about whatever few possessions he had.

“What are you doing?” Thor asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing,” He spat. He picked up his backpack and slung it over a shoulder. He grabbed his schoolbag, too, slinging it over his other one. He felt like a mule, and he probably looked ridiculous. Was this what Thor was getting off on? Seeing him struggle? “I’m leaving.”

“Shit,” Thor groaned, “You heard Bruce and I talk.”

“Yeah, I heard you talk,” His voice sounded like a knife, and for a moment Thor seemed to cringe because of it, but Loki wasn’t going to be fooled twice. Did Thor think he was _that_ easy? “Did you have a good laugh? Did you enjoy ‘me eating out of the palm of your hand’?”

“Let me just explain–”

His fist propelled forward and hit him square in the face, Thor’s head snapping back. He quickly reached up to cover his nose, and much to Loki’s delight, he saw a few drops of blood trickle down, over his lips – lips he had kissed and _no_ , he wasn’t going to spend any more time thinking about that.

“You disgust me so much–” Loki started, his voice low and full of venom, “–that I rather live with Richard than spend another hour with you.”

With that, he shoved past Thor, ignoring the way he called out his name, asking him to stay. His voice physically hurt him and Loki shut it out. He darted out of the apartment and ran down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet.

And once he got outside, he kept on running, even when tears invaded his eyes, blurring his sight.

He ran all the way back to his fucking asshole of a stepdad.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

He didn’t know how long he stood outside for. Half an hour? An hour? Two hours? Loki had no idea whatsoever, but postponing the inevitable was his specialty. Now that the nights weren’t as cold anymore, he truly considered just wandering around the park until it was time to head to school, but could he really risk staying outside all night?

With a burdened sigh, Loki approached the old, withered house. He never did manage to pick up his bike and it surprised him that it was still locked to the fence where he’d left it. He’d expected Richard to have sold it or taken a bat to it. It wouldn’t even be the first time.

Each step that brought him closer to the front door inevitably brought him closer to living in the past again; he was back to avoiding Richard and getting beaten up on a regular basis. That was what cut him the most; Thor had given him a sanctuary for over two weeks, only to rip it away from him. The sanctuary hadn’t even been real. Loki didn’t know how he could have been fooled like that. He’d always thought he could read people, but then again, he’d never been able to read Thor, and now he knew why.

His hand folded around the doorknob, and Loki inhaled deeply as he turned it. He opened the door with a creaking noise and entered the house. The hallway was dark, as was the rest of the house. Loki walked into the living room to find the couch empty. Richard was probably sleeping so he had to be quiet. The last thing he needed today was for Richard to wake up. He had a feeling the guy wouldn’t even be mad. He’d just laugh in his face.

Loki had hoped to never return to this place, and now he experienced a strange sort of appreciation for these walls, for that couch, for the old TV, for everything really. Hell, he’d even build some appreciation for Richard. At least the guy didn’t have two faces. No, he _knew_ Richard and he knew what to expect of him.

Picking up the only picture in the living room, Loki clutched it tightly and stared at it. His mother had emerald green eyes like him, and pale skin, too. Her red hair looked like flames around his long, thin face. He looked like her, except for his hair. He’d always known he’d inherited his jet black hair from his father’s side, but that was about the only thing he knew. Richard hadn’t been lying back in Mr. Coulson’s office. He hardly remembered his father.

Loki pressed the photo closely to his chest and let his head fall forward, strands of hair falling before his tear-filled eyes. He’d hardly thought of his parents when he’d been staying over at Thor’s, because for the first time in a long time, he’d been content living in the present. Blinking away his tears, he dropped down on the couch, too tired to make it to his room.

With the framed picture still held against his chest, his arms wrapped around it, Loki closed his eyes and willed sleep to claim him. When it finally did, early in the morning, he dreamt of Richard and Thor again, cornering him, screaming at him, and after he woke, the dream still so very vivid in his memory, he didn’t freak out again. The dream was as horrible as reality was.

Nothing could hurt him like Thor had hurt him.

-x-x-x-

It took exactly four days for Loki to turn up at school with a black eye. At first, Richard’s insults had been easy to ignore – Loki practically lived in the past now, his thoughts constantly occupied. It was easy not to listen to his taunts as long as he kept thinking of his mother and father, but after bringing up Thor for the hundredth time, Loki had snapped and threw his mug of steaming hot coffee at his head.

That had been a bad idea – Loki had known that as soon as the mug had shattered right besides Richard’s head. Richard had grabbed him, nails having dug deep into his shoulder, and punched him right in the face. He’d used so much force that Loki had blacked out for a few minutes, and he’d woken up alone on the kitchen floor. He hadn’t bothered with ice.

As he walked to the school gates, Loki gingerly felt the skin around his eye. It was sore and swollen, but at least he could still see. What sucked was the fact that Mr. Barton was supervising the students streaming into the massive building, making sure everything happened in an orderly fashion. Loki, hoping to be left alone, walked straight past him, keeping his head down, but Mr. Barton placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to a halt.

“Loki?” He asked, sincere concern in his gaze.

He didn’t bother conjuring up a fake smile. He didn’t bother with a lot of things anymore. What was the point, right? “I know what you’re thinking,” He said, blatantly pointing at his beautifully colored eye, “I ran straight into a door. Can you believe that? Only who are we kidding, huh?” He let out a little laugh that definitely did not contain any amusement. “The door was obviously Richard’s fist, and I didn’t accidentally run into it; he punched it in my face.”

He didn’t know what it was that had Barton’s concern morph into something that could quite possibly be absolute horror. Maybe he shouldn’t be so brash about his injury. The last thing he wanted was another awkward conversation in the principal’s office, but he figured Barton knew better than to involve Richard in this now. At least, Loki hoped he did. Mr. Barton didn’t look that stupid.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked with a doleful look on his face.

Barton’s emotional involvement with his students was commendable. Loki didn’t know how the guy could keep caring after all the shit that had already happened to his students. Really, what would it take for him to understand that it didn’t matter whether he gave a shit or not?

“No,” He said after a short pause, shaking his head. It actually saddened him that there was no one in this entire world that could help him. “There really isn’t anything you can do.” He shrugged off Barton’s hand, and after tossing him another frigid, fake smile, he entered the school building, preparing for another long, boring day full of classes he’d just sleep through.

-x-x-x-

Days went on like that.

Loki showed up at school a few more times with bruises on his face, neck and arms, and he’d been forced to talk to Mr. Coulson again. Like last time, he had lied his way through every question, only to end the conversation by asking him not to call Richard or the police – begging really. It seemed Coulson had honored his promise, because so far, he’d been left alone.

He started carrying a knife around again when he was sure he’d spotted an unknown, Asian-looking guy watching him, dressed in black boots, jeans and a thick, leather vest, reminding him so very much of Thor. He’d just screamed _Tony Stark’s henchman_ to him.

Funnily enough, the place where he felt safest at was at Richard’s house. At school he was constantly vigilant for Mr. Barton or Mr. Coulson to draw him into a conversation about his obviously problematic home situation, and when he walked or rode through the streets, he was continually looking over his shoulder, expecting Tony Stark to come after him – or worse, Thor Odinson.

At home, he just had to deal with Richard. That, he could do. Hell, that was easy.

So when he came home one evening to find Richard passed out on the couch, Loki prepared for a quiet evening. After grabbing a small dinner, he locked himself in his room with the intention to throw himself on the mountains of homework he’d been given, only to find that his window had been cracked open a little. A soft, warm breeze moved through his bedroom.

A small black device waited for him on the windowsill; a cell phone. Carefully, he picked it up and found a small note underneath it. Thor’s handwriting was just as he remembered it; mostly unrefined, but with surprisingly elegant vowels.

_‘Keep it with you. You can always call me. My number is in the contact’s list.’_

The idea that Thor had been here, that he’d been able to open his window and leave this phone behind, was both unsettling and heartening – though he quickly dismissed that final sentiment. Everything Thor had done had been done with an ulterior motive. This phone was no different. Perhaps this was a way to try and bribe him or to try and buy his silence.

Huffing out an angry breath, Loki tossed the phone onto his little desk, refusing to pay it any mind tonight. He wasn’t going to throw it away, though. No, he’d never had a cell phone before. That it came from Thor was just a minor inconvenience.

For the rest of the evening, he focused on his homework and eventually went to bed around midnight. He didn’t have any trouble falling asleep. Today had been a day like any other, after all – ordinary and repetitive. And if he had another nightmare, he didn’t know. He no longer remembered his dreams.

-x-x-x-

He spotted him the moment he strolled out of the school building, which he considered quite a feat since about a hundred other students were pushing and shoving around him, all desperate to go home or hang out with friends. Yet still his eyes landed on him the second he stepped outside. Perhaps it was the sound of the engine that had drawn his attention or perhaps he’d felt those dark blue eyes on him, heavy and unwanted.

Loki froze and glanced around. He expected others to be around, but as far as he could tell, Thor was alone, sitting leisurely on his gigantic motorcycle, his massive, muscled arms resting casually on the grips of his bike. His shoulder long blond hair wasn’t tied into a bun for once. Instead it hung loose, though it was neatly folded behind his ears.

As soon as he spotted Loki by the school gates, he straightened his back, his eyes widening.

Loki swallowed away the exasperation and hurt that flooded him, because like hell was he going to allow Thor to make him feel miserable again. The asshole had already messed with him enough for a lifetime. Deliberately looking away, his hand clutching the strap of his backpack, Loki headed to his bike that was locked down at the bicycle parking.

Exactly ten seconds passed before he heard Thor’s voice behind him.

“Loki?” He asked, just as he threw a leg over the crossbar of his bike.

The mere sound of his voice, deep and rumbling like thunder, had Loki almost groaning. _Almost_. He pressed his lips firmly together, refusing to make a sound, and glared up at him. Thor took another step closer to him, slowly, as if not wanting to make any brusque movements, and Loki could smell the leather of his vest. Fuck, he hadn’t realized before how good Thor smelled. He banned that thought from his mind.

“What do you want?” He asked bluntly.

“Shit, Loki,” Thor sighed, his eyes studying every inch of his face. Loki couldn’t help but reach up and run a hand through his black hair, as if that would shield him from Thor’s gaze and hide the fading black eye and the bruise on the side of his throat. “I knew it was bad, but these bruises are–”

“Don’t,” Loki interjected, grasping the handlebars so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Something heavy and sharp seemed to turn and twist in his stomach. And how did Thor even know about the bruises? Oh. _Oh_. “That Asian guy,” He said, realization dawning upon him, “You sent him.”

“I had to keep an eye on you,” Thor replied, and really, Loki almost believed the sincere concern in his voice.

“Do you really think you can fool me twice? Oh, wait,” He rolled his eyes before giving him a pointed look, “You think I’m nothing but an abused, little kid that craves nothing more than a savior. Of course you think you can fool me twice.”

Thor had the nerve to look annoyed. “Will you just let me explain why I did what I did?”

“Fuck no,” Loki snapped, his features lining with disgust, “I don’t want to listen to your excuses.”

“Okay, fine,” Thor said, lifting both his hands as if he was surrendering – though that wasn’t going to fool Loki either. “I won’t insult you by telling you I’m sorry. In fact, I don’t think I’m really sorry at all. It was either this or Tony Stark was going to scar you for life.”

Loki couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“But I _am_ sorry that you had to find out the way you did,” He continued before Loki could say anything. He really wanted Thor to shut up now. He even considered punching him right in the face again, but since they were still on the school grounds and a teacher might see them, he decided against it. The last thing he wanted was a suspension. “I wanted to tell you,” Thor added, “because I hated lying to you.”

Snorting, Loki shook his head. “Spare me your bullshit.”

“I really did want to protect you,” Thor said as if Loki had said nothing at all, “I still do.”

“I’m leaving now,” Loki drawled slowly, wanting Thor to read the anger and disgust and disappointment in his gaze. Maybe that would have him back off.

For some unfathomable reason, Thor looked dejected. “Loki–”

He wasn’t interested in hearing what else Thor wanted to say. He didn’t want to hear his lies in the slightest. Why would he torture himself like that? God, did Thor really think of him as an idiot? Probably. It was the only explanation as to why he’d try and fix whatever it was that had been between them. Not that there had been anything between them. Loki had been manipulated into liking him, into growing attached to him. None of it had been real, not even their kiss. Fuck, it explained why Thor had pushed him away that evening.

Loki kept repeating that over and over, like a mantra, as he made his way to Richard’s house, but his thoughts inadvertently slipped to the cell phone inside his backpack. He’d stared at Thor’s phone number so many times already that he knew it by heart.

He kept telling himself that meant nothing either.

-x-x-x-

That evening, he’d gotten his first text message. He’d been in bed, the phone tucked away underneath his pillow, when he’d felt it vibrate. He knew who the sender was without even looking at the little screen – only one person in this world had this number, or so he assumed – and Loki planned on ignoring it.

Only … He really needed to work on his curiosity. With a frustrated sigh – because even after everything that had happened, he still wanted to know what the text said – he grabbed the phone and opened the message.

 _‘Hate me all you want,’_ it said, _‘I’m not going to let Tony Stark hurt you.’_

Loki read it again and again, wishing it pissed him off. He wished it filled him with a hard and unyielding feeling, but it didn’t, because a part of him, no matter how small, felt better knowing that Thor was still out there, looking after him. He felt safer knowing that he would still protect him, no matter what motive hid behind it, whether it was purely selfish or not.

That night he fell asleep with the phone still in his hand and he dreamt of their kiss. He dreamt that Thor didn’t stop him and when those hands touched him, soft and warm, Loki reveled at it. It was a good dream.

-x-x-x-

The halls were mostly abandoned, most of the students having left already, except those who had been stuck in detention with him and those who played sports or whatever other shit after school hours. Loki muttered under his breath, eyes firmly on the tiled floor beneath him. He’d mouthed off against a teacher, had been sent to the principal’s office, and now he was stuck with a week’s detention _and_ a talk to the school psychologist.

The world was gunning for him, there just wasn’t another explanation. Or maybe this really was his own fault. He shouldn’t have asked that teacher if her husband satisfied her enough at night. On the other hand, she’d been so grumpy and irritable that it truly had left him wondering. At least he hadn’t insulted her by asking if it was that time of the month.

He made his way to his locker, wanting to switch some books, when his phone vibrated for the second time in under twelve hours. Loki sighed, irritated, because he sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to deal with Thor’s endless attempts to make things right between them – at least, he assumed that was what Thor was trying to do, for whatever reason.

He pulled the cell phone out of the front pocket of his backpack and opened the text message.

_‘_ _Stark knows about the witness. He’s coming for you. Don’t go with him or anyone else.’_

Loki stopped dead in his tracks, reading the message a second time, then a third time and a fourth time. Was this a trick? Was this a way for Thor to mess with him again? Or was this some sick joke? Loki’s hands clasped the phone so tightly he feared he was going to break it. His breath came out in short, but fierce bursts, his chest already heaving.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with a message like that?

Not knowing what was expected of him right now, Loki hurried to his locker. He practically threw the books he wouldn’t need tonight inside the small space and grabbed those that he did need. The fact that his hands were trembling was something he forcibly ignored.

His phone vibrated again.

_‘At any cost. I’m coming to you at school.’_

Loki slammed his locker shut as he shoved the phone back into the pocket of his jeans. He needed to get out of here, and Loki hated that right now, he wished he was home, at Richard’s house, though would he really be safe there? He started to understand he wasn’t safe anywhere. Shit, he wished he’d never gone to that night shop all that time ago.

With hasty steps, he made his way through the halls, heading for the main exit. His heart was thumping wildly within his chest, and shit, why wasn’t Thor here? Or was that what he wanted? Did he want to scare the shit out of him so that he’d go running to him? But to what purpose? No, Loki knew that Thor wasn’t messing with him.

He rounded a corner and bumped right into a broad chest. Loki fell back, falling right on his ass, and found himself looking up at a gigantic man with red hair and a thick red beard. He shuffled back a bit and jumped up onto his feet, preparing to run the other way, only when he spun around, there was a second man. He wasn’t big or muscled like the ginger man, but the way he was looking at Loki, with predatory blue eyes, was enough for Loki to swallow heavily, panic making his knees buckle.

“Found him,” The ginger man chuckled.

Before Loki was aware of what was happening, he felt a strong arm wrap around his middle, pinning down his arms, and shit, the guy had to be on steroids or something! Loki struggled to break free and he parted his lips to scream, only for a fat hand to slap over his mouth, muffling any sound he produced.

“Get him in here, Volstagg,” The blond man with an immaculately kept goatee said. He forced open a locked door and ushered them inside. It was the Geology classroom.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Loki struggled in the ginger man’s – in Volstagg’s tight grip, trashing and kicking. He tossed his head back, hoping to hit the bastard’s nose or something, but it was all in vain. He felt so fucking small in the man’s arms, but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up.

“Fandral, some help,” Volstagg hissed when Loki continued to fight.

“Hold him down,” The second one, Fandral, said, “I got restraints.”

Like hell was he going to let these men put restraints on him! He wasn’t a fucking dog. He sank his teeth in the fleshy palm of Volstagg’s hand, grinning as the man cried out in pain, only to be tossed onto the floor a second later, his head snapping back against the tiles. His vision blurred and before he was able to shake off the dizziness, he felt a heavy weight press down on his chest, knocking all air from his lungs. The blond asshole, Fandral, was sitting on top of him.

“Get off of me!” He yelled, desperately trying to shove Fandral off of him.

Fandral responded by knocking his elbow against the side of his face. Loki groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to shut out the pain, only for Fandral to yank at his hand and press it down against the floor. The feeling of a cold, sharp blade pressing against the palm of his hand made Loki grow still. He didn’t struggle anymore, nor did he shout and curse. Instead, he gazed up at Fandral with tearful eyes.

“Stop,” He breathed, “Just stop. I’ll go with you.”

“What the hell is it that Thor sees in you?” Fandral questioned, his head cocked sideways.

Loki couldn’t think about that question, not with a knife pressed against his hand. “What does Tony Stark want?” He asked in return. Image after image of getting beaten filled his head. In a few of those images, Thor was there. He whimpered at the feeling of Fandral pushing the blade against his skin without cutting him.

“Aren’t you a pretty sight for sore eyes,” Fandral grinned. He glanced up and Loki followed his line of sight. Volstagg was standing by the blackboard that still had an image of Europe drawn on it, his arms crossed before his chest, a filthy smile curving his lips upward. “I see now why Thor likes him so much.”

“And I see why he called you a tool,” Loki spat.

The knife sliced through the skin of his hand like it was butter. Loki cried out, though the sound was barely audible with Fandral’s hand clasped around the lower half of his face. He began struggling again, kicking out his legs and shoving his uninjured hand against Fandral’s face. He needed to get away from that psycho and he needed to get away _now_.

Fandral pressed the bloodied knife against the side his throat, forcing Loki to lay still.

“That’s better,” Fandral smiled, yet his blue eyes stood wide and stifled, “A kid like you isn’t going to make my job hard.” He shuffled down a little, and Loki couldn’t help but shift a little, hoping that Fandral was going to leave him alone, but that hope was easily shattered when he felt a cold hand slip down his stomach. “Did Thor touch you?”

What the fuck?

“I bet you squirmed underneath him like a blushing virgin,” Fandral chuckled. His fingers effortlessly unbuttoned his jeans. “Wouldn’t you agree, Volstagg?” He had the nerve to laugh, head tossed back. “How much do you hate him now that you know the truth?” He asked, blue eyes locking with Loki’s emerald green ones.

“Still not as much as I hate you,” He said through gritted teeth. He tried pushing away the knife to his throat, having enough of Fandral’s taunts now, only for Fandral to shove a hand inside his pants, groping him. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and Loki felt his chest constrict, his heart barely having room to beat. Fuck, this – _this_ couldn’t be happening!

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He gasped. Fear paralyzed him, his limbs too heavy to move, but at the sound of Fandral laughing, at the feeling of his hand touching him where no other man had ever touched him, Loki filled with rage. He roared and somehow managed to throw Fandral off of him.

One second passed where nothing happened, where he and Fandral simply looked at each other in disbelief, and then Loki jumped up onto his feet, snatching up his backpack and darting for the door. He could hear Volstagg’s thundering footsteps behind him, but Loki was faster than him.

He ran through the halls of the school building, and not knowing where else to go, he ran straight for the principal’s office without looking back. He didn’t need to see Volstagg or Fandral chasing after him. He made a left turn, running past rows and rows of lockers, until he heard someone call his name. Loki looked sideways, skidding to a halt in surprise.

Mr. Barton was staring at him, a frown on his face. He was probably on his way to his classroom to pack up and head home. “Why are you running through the halls like this?” He asked, taking a step closer to him.

Volstagg and Fandral were gaining on him, their footsteps sounding louder and louder behind him. Loki shifted his gaze between Mr. Barton and the end of the hallway where two maniacs were bound to appear. He had to make a choice, and he had to make it now. He threw Mr. Barton a desperate look, silently telling him he was fucked, before he started running again, and this time he didn’t stop until he reached Mr. Coulson’s office.


	8. Chapter 8

He threw himself at the door, forcing it open whether it was locked or not, whether he was allowed to enter or wasn’t. He didn’t care. He barged into the office, gasping for air, his heart beating frantically against his ribcage to the point where it hurt. Behind the desk, Mr. Coulson looked up in shock and surprise, a look of anger crossing his features, but when he jumped up, it wasn’t because he was angry. His gaze instantly filled with concern.

“Loki?” He asked, stepping around the desk. His grey eyes moved up and down Loki’s form, taking in the way his clothes were a mess, his disheveled hair, and, worst of all, the blood dripping from his hand. “What happened?”

Loki – his legs unable to sustain his weight any longer – dropped down on the nearest chair. His entire body was shaking. He couldn’t even completely focus on the principal, his attention shifting to anything and everything that moved or made a noise. Would Fandral and Volstagg come looking for him here? Shit, what if they were going to hurt Mr. Coulson? What if they already hurt Mr. Barton?

“Hey, hey,” Mr. Coulson said, folding a hand around Loki’s shoulder, demanding his attention, “Loki, you have to tell me what’s going on. Jesus,” He dropped down onto the chair beside him and turned Loki’s injured hand around, wanting to examine the cut – only Loki violently pulled it away. The idea of anyone touching him right now had nausea settle in the pit of his stomach. “I’m calling the police.”

“No!” His emerald green eyes snapped towards him, begging him not to. Shit, if the cops got involved, everything would go straight to hell. He didn’t even want to know what Tony Stark would try and do to him then. “Please, don’t, just … Let me catch my breath.”

Mr. Coulson stared at him with nothing but incredulity in his gaze. “I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to make this decision, Loki,” He said with regret in his voice, “You storm into my office, looking like you’ve been harassed and you’re bleeding.”

Desperately, Loki ran a hand through his hair, hoping to smooth it back. He forced himself to take in deep breaths and exhale them slowly. He couldn’t be sure, but he was starting to feel more in control – not that he was in control over anything that was going on in his life right now.

A soft knock to the door drew their attention.

A sense of relief seemed to flood Mr. Barton as he entered the office, his eyes landing on Loki, and a soft sigh escaped his lips. “You scared the crap out of me, you know that?” He asked – not that there lay any accusation in his voice. “Who were those men?”

Loki swallowed heavily. “You saw them?”

“Yeah, I did,” Mr. Barton replied. He sunk down on his knees in front of him, his lightly colored eyes focused entirely on him. Loki could practically read every thought that flitted through his mind. He was obviously confused, but that sentiment paled in comparison to the worry that laced his features. “Can I take a look?” He asked, pointing at Loki’s bleeding hand.

Loki nodded and placed his hand into Mr. Barton’s. The feeling of his warm skin had him shudder, the nausea returning suddenly as he felt Fandral’s hands on his body again. He shuddered and closed his eyes, instead focusing on Mr. Barton’s gentle, caring touch.

“I got a first aid kit,” Mr. Coulson said.

“I don’t think it needs stitches,” He said after a quick examination, “Loki, who were those men?” He accepted the little box with a red cross from Mr. Coulson and opened it, picking out a disinfectant and some bandages, and set to work, taking care of the cut that ran from the base of Loki’s index finger to the center of his palm.

Loki pressed his lips together to the point where they were nothing more than two thin, white lines – not that it had anything to do with the sharp pain from the cut. No, no matter how much he wanted to tell Mr. Barton, no matter how much he wanted to explain to him what a mess his life had become, he couldn’t. If Tony Stark were to find out he’d talked to him, he might hurt him. Shit, Mr. Barton was one of the few good souls left in this city. Loki refused to put him in danger.

“I’m in trouble,” Slipped away from him without his permission.

When he met Mr. Barton’s gaze, Loki felt tears invade his eyes. He couldn’t handle this. No one could expect him to handle this. Shit, Thor had been right all along! He was just a seventeen year old kid who didn’t know shit. He definitely didn’t know how to cope with the fact that one the city’s biggest crime lord was after him.

“Has it got something to do with that big blond guy with the motorcycle?” Mr. Barton asked carefully.

“No,” Loki answered, “Yes.” He blinked away his tears and hoped that the chaos in his mind would disappear with them. “Thor has taken care of me,” He settled on before Mr. Barton had the chance to say anything, and he knew he’d believe that. These past few weeks, there hadn’t been any bruises on him at all, after all. “He protects me.”

“From who?”

Loki lowered his gaze and watched Mr. Barton wrap the bandage around his hand. “From Richard,” He said after a short silence. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Mr. Barton didn’t get the chance to speak.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside, but Loki easily recognized them. He glanced up expectantly at the door and _God_ , there he was. The relief and elation that crashed into his body was beyond anything Loki had experienced before, and without thinking, he got up and ran over to him, arms wrapping around his neck. The smell of his leather vest soothed him.

“What did they do?” Thor instantly demanded. He pulled himself out of Loki’s tight grip and brought a hand to the side of his face, his thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped him.

“Nothing,” He lied. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered with it. Obviously they had hurt him. The bandage around his hand was proof enough of that. Still, he didn’t want Thor running off in an attempt to catch two fuckers who were long gone by now. He wanted Thor to stay with him, so he grabbed hold of the edge of his leather vest and pulled him close again as he leaned into his warm, welcome touch.

“You must be Thor,” Mr. Coulson spoke up. Surprisingly, he held out a hand for Thor to shake, which he did. “I’m the principal of this school and Loki is my responsibility. I see no option other than to call the police and–”

“There’s no need,” Loki said, turning away from Thor, hating that his touch disappeared, and stared at Mr. Coulson. “I’m sorry for the scene I caused, but don’t worry, I’ll be fine now.”

“Loki–”

“I just wanna go home,” Loki interrupted. He could see the turmoil happening behind the principal’s office, but in the end, he left the man little choice. If he called the cops, he’d never trust him again. Fuck, who was to say he’d even show up at school anymore? No, Mr. Coulson knew he had to let him go. He turned to Mr. Barton. “Thanks for this,” He said, lifting his bandaged hand.

He wasn’t trembling as much anymore, and he definitely didn’t feel nauseous anymore, but he still felt on edge, hyperaware of his surroundings, but the moment Thor’s hand clasped around his, walking with him through the empty halls of the school building, Loki started to relax.

He knew he was safe.

-x-x-x-

It was strange to be back inside Thor’s apartment. Last time he’d been here had been two weeks ago, but it felt like an eternity had passed already. Somehow he’d expected the place to look different from what he remembered, but all that he saw were familiar walls and furniture. This was where he’d found sanctuary, if only for a short period of time. No matter what Thor had done, that hadn’t been ruined, much to Loki’s surprise, and he wasn’t going to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

Standing between these walls made him feel … unfettered. There was nothing to hold him back here. His sharp tongue wouldn’t unleash a shit-storm of assaults nor did he need to be vigilant at all times, listening to his surroundings in order to hear Richard coming. He wouldn’t be constantly thinking of his mother and father either, not with Thor around – Thor who stood beside him, looking strangely awkward, his shoulders tense and his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his leather vest. He looked nothing like the man he’d met the night of the murder anymore. He looked shockingly small despite the massive muscles lining his limbs.

Loki was well aware that he was staring, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t spoken a word since they left Mr. Coulson’s office. He’d parted his lips a few times, but he’d been unable to think of a single thing to say. Honestly, what _could_ he say after what had happened? Tony Stark had sent two men after him to … what? Kill him? Or had messing with him been their only goal? Was Thor in on it? Fuck, Loki didn’t even know anymore.

Yet Thor looked like he’d been hit by a train. When his dark blue eyes shifted towards him, they revealed misery and doubt, and really, no one could fake a look like that. Carefully, he lifted Loki’s injured hand and studied the bandage intently. Loki sighed at the feeling of his warm touch on his skin.

“Say something,” Thor said softly, his hand still folded around Loki’s.

He was still staring, which might be bordering on the edge of creepy, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Thor’s features, observing each line, counting each freckle, noticing every small indication of emotion. “I’ve seen your true face,” He said after a long silence, “It’s full of lies and deceit.” He felt Thor’s hand tighten around his, but it didn’t hurt.

Thor nodded thoughtfully. “I know.”

“Why did you warn me about them and why did you come to my school?” Loki asked, tilting his head sideways a little, wanting a clear view of Thor’s face. He liked to believe he could read him right now, that Thor was deliberately being open, for whatever insane reason. “Are you trying to make up for your shitty play or something?”

“I don’t know,” He sighed, “There’s just–” Thor glanced up at him from underneath dark lashes, and Loki felt something twist inside of him. The brief anger that flashed behind those dark eyes had a shiver run down his back, but Loki knew that anger wasn’t directed at him, not when Thor held his hand as gently as he did now, for whatever reason. “There’s something about you,” He continued a moment later, apparently having gathered his thoughts, “When people lay their hands on you, I want to break those hands.”

Nothing seemed to be left of that gigantic, intimidating, and aggressive man. Thor had let down every shield he possessed, Loki realized, just as he had done which might have been a big fucking mistake. Why was he even back in this place? Shit! Thinking began to hurt and chaos erupted in his head, memories of Fandral and Volstagg flooding his mind, and Loki did the only thing he knew would calm him down.

He leaned forward, standing on the tips of his toes, and pressed his lips against Thor’s. They were just as he remembered; rough and warm. Thor’s hand slipped through his jet black hair, smoothing it back, and Loki moaned into the kiss, his lips parting. Electricity shot through his veins when he felt Thor’s tongue slip across his lower lip, hot and wet – and then just like last time, it ended much too soon.

“Fuck, Loki,” Thor breathed, eyes closing. He rested his forehead against his.

What the hell was he doing?

“Don’t say I’m just a kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing,” He said, head shaking against Thor’s. He wished he could see his dark blue eyes, because he knew he’d be able to read Thor’s thoughts in them now that he’d let his guard down. He wished he knew what was going on in that head of his. Was this another play, another way to win his trust and, therefore, his silence? Loki refused to believe it. “I know perfectly well what I’m doing,” He added, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. After Thor’s betrayal, he’d felt so low, and now he’d kissed him again. It made no sense, but Loki was done trying to make sense of what was going on in his life right now.

Much to his surprise, Thor nodded and said: “Okay.”

Fuck, he hoped he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life! Really, fool him once, shame on Thor. Fool him twice, shame on him. He shouldn’t be here, really, but then, where should he be? At Richard’s house? No, Loki quite liked being here, and he quite liked the way Thor’s fingers were still entangledin his hair, the way their foreheads were still pressed together, the way they were sharing air.

He wished they could stand like this for just a little while longer, the world around them of no importance, but Loki wasn’t naïve, and if it had to end, he wanted to be the one to break the moment. He straightened his back and pulled away, shoulders square.

“Good,” He said with a curt nod, because he really was done being treated as a child.

-x-x-x-

He didn’t know how long he stood underneath the hot ray of water with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, uncaring of the amount of water he was using. He was desperate to wash away Fandral’s touch, but nothing seemed to help, not even scrubbing his skin until it was red. Just thinking of that asshole’s hand slipping down his stomach, down and down, made him retch. Thank God there was nothing in his stomach!

Realizing that the water wasn’t going to help, Loki got out of the shower and started drying himself, only for his attention to shift towards the sound of a door opening, followed by Thor’s tense voice. It was barely audible, but Loki could hear what he was saying.

“Where the hell have you been?” Thor asked. Loki hugged the large towel around his body and shuffled closer towards the bathroom door, wanting to hear everything Thor was saying. “I’ve been trying to contact you all evening.”

“I’ve been kind of busy,” Someone replied, and Loki knew he’d heard that voice before. He just couldn’t place it yet. “You know, it’s like you remote-detonated a bomb at Stark’s office, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fandral so pissed off.”

It was that Bruce-guy, the one he’d seen and heard the night he’d discovered the truth about Thor’s motives. Just the sound of his voice brought back those nasty memories, and a shiver ran down his spine. His grip on the towel tightened as recollectionsof that evening rushed back to him. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so betrayed before in his life, and really, he didn’t know why he was back here.

Thor made a throaty noise, but Loki couldn’t possibly know what that meant. Fuck, he wished he could actually see his face, that he could spot the different expressions – if it were at all possible. Loki had a feeling Thor wasn’t going to be transparent with Bruce around. “He’s the one who couldn’t secure a teenager,” He said, and Loki all but groaned, disliking the way Thor spoke of him, reducing him to a seventeen year old again. “I hope Stark eats him alive.”

Bruce laughed briefly. “He’ll eat you alive,” He replied. Loki liked to believe the man’s dark brown eyes were intensely fixed on Thor. If only he could see them! “It’s only a matter of time before they come looking for him here.” There was a short pause that drove Loki mad. What the hell was happening out there? “Is he here?” Bruce asked a moment later with a surprisingly high and doubtful voice. He sounded cautious.

There came no reply, and Loki could only guess the look on Thor’s face right now. Impatience and irritation made his hands tighten around the edge of the towel.

“He’s taking a shower,” Thor eventually said.

“Shit, Thor,” Bruce replied with a sigh, “Do you even know what kind of a mess you’re making of things?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“What you always do in situations like this,” Bruce said, seemingly exasperated, “You let Stark handle it.”

Thor muttered something under his breath which Loki couldn’t possibly understand, no matter how close to the door he stood. It frustrated the hell out of him, and for a brief second, he considered just barging into the living room, though he quickly dismissed that thought. His hair was dripping onto his shoulders and he had nothing but a towel wrapped around his frame. Last thing he needed was to make rash decisions that would inevitably lead to awkward situations.

“You know I couldn’t do that,” Thor said then.

“What do you even see in that kid?” Bruce asked.

Loki’s eyes fluttered shut, the question instantly throwing him back to this afternoon. Fandral had asked exactly the same question, and now that he thought more about it, Loki couldn’t come up with a proper answer. What _did_ Thor see in him? Why was he protecting him so fiercely? It couldn’t be because _‘there was just something about him’_. That explained absolutely nothing.

“Why are you protecting him?” Bruce continued to question Thor when he didn’t answer the first question. “It sure as hell isn’t going to buy his silence anymore. That ploy blew up in your face.”

“I have his silence,” Came Thor’s instant reply.

Loki sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, forcing himself to stay quiet. Thor hadn’t hesitated with that answer which meant he was convinced that Loki wasn’t going to talk, so was that why he was still protecting him? To make sure that he would _stay_ quiet? Or was there something more? Fuck, Loki needed there to be more!

“You’re not answering my question, Thor.”

“Fuck off, Bruce,” Thor snapped heatedly.

“Fine, fine,” Bruce conceded. Loki wished he hadn’t. He wished Bruce would have pushed until Thor blurted out the truth. At least then he’d know something. Then he would finally be able to put his mind to ease, but life was never that generous. If he wanted answers, he wasn’t going to get them easily. “Your business is your own,” Bruce added, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Thor bit out, still frustrated it seemed, “Now get out of here.” Movement happened beyond the door, footsteps echoing through the small apartment. More was said, but Loki couldn’t hear them anymore. They had gone into the kitchen most likely – and ah, yes, that was definitely the sound of a door closing. Bruce was gone.

And he’d left Loki’s head spinning, question after question screaming inside his mind, but no answers came to him. He was beginning to think he’d never really know why Thor was doing what he was doing. No one knew apparently.

-x-x-x-

Staring up at the ceiling, a hand casually resting underneath the back of his head, Loki let his mind wander into oblivion. Images of his mother flashed before his eyes, her kind, emerald green eyes lighting up as she smiled. He saw his father, too, but Loki wasn’t sure he really looked like that. He just liked to think his raven hair had been long and smooth like his, and that his eyes had been a bright blue color, almost too bright to be natural.

Those blue eyes morphed into a different shade of blue and the dark hair grew pale. Blinking rapidly, Loki tried to dismiss the image of Fandral before him, but it was too late. He felt his big, filthy hand slip into his trousers again, fingers rough and unwanted.

With a jolt, Loki sat up and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard enough for stars to explode before his vision. God, on top of everything, he was supposed to deal with that, too? On top of Richard’s beating and Thor’s betrayal, he had to somehow cope with getting groped in the Geology classroom, too? How the fuck was he supposed to do that? How on earth was he ever going to get any sleep anymore?

In a hopeless attempt to get a grip on himself, Loki tossed aside the covers of the bed and got up, moving towards the closed bedroom door. Soft, muffled noises floated towards him, indicating that Thor was still watching TV. After Bruce had left, Loki had gotten dressed and he’d walked into the kitchen, pretending he’d heard nothing. He hadn’t even known what he could have said after that conversation, so they had settled on some small talk until silence had filled the apartment. It hadn’t been awkward; it had just been there, but at least Loki hadn’t relived Fandral’s assault again and again. Thor’s presence pushed aside a lot of uncomfortable memories for some reason.

Slowly opening the door, Loki peered into the living room to find Thor sitting on the couch, a beer in hand. It seemed he hadn’t even moved since he’d gone to bed an hour ago.

At the sound of the creaking door, Thor looked aside, his dark blue eyes instantly finding Loki’s emerald green ones – Loki who leaned against the doorframe with one shoulder, hyperaware that he wore nothing more than boxer shorts and one of Thor’s oversized T-shirts.

“I can’t sleep,” He said as he looked Thor in the eye. His heart started beating wildly within his chest, as if his body was trying to warn him, or perhaps stop him from whatever it was that he was doing. “Join me?”

A shadow passed over Thor’s face, filling it with doubt and unease, surprise and hesitance. But strangely enough, Loki didn’t falter. He simply reached out a hand – the uninjured one – despite the fact that Thor couldn’t possibly take it from where he sat. “Don’t worry,” He said softly, unsure if Thor could even hear him, “I don’t mean anything by it.”

Thor swallowed heavily before he nodded. After switching off the TV and setting aside the half-empty beer bottle, he stood up and walked towards Loki who still stood with his hand stretched out. When his long, warm fingers folded around Loki’s, Loki smiled. Another shiver ran down his spine, hot and sharp, spreading out to his arms and legs.

He pulled Thor into the bedroom and guided him towards the bed, only letting go once they reached it.

As he lay down on his side, Thor having done the same without having bothered to undress, Loki gazed at him, wondering what was going on in that head of his, but it seemed his guards were up again, concealing everything that lay beyond. He couldn’t read any of his thoughts nor guess any of his sentiments. Those were all carefully locked away, much to Loki’s regret.

Still, with Thor lying next to him, his warmth radiating off of his body, Loki felt his muscles relax, as well as his mind. His eyes fluttered shut and, surprisingly enough, sleep claimed him a few seconds later. Fandral’s touch finally seemed to have disappeared from his body.

-x-x-x-

It was early when he woke, the bedroom dark and empty, Thor having gone. A heaviness pressed down on his chest, making it fucking hard to breathe, and Loki sat up, shifting a hand over Thor’s spot, finding it cold. He didn’t even want to know when Thor had snuck out.

Dejectedly, and angrily, Loki got up and got dressed.

Thor might have pulled up his walls again, but Loki thought he’d made it abundantly clear he’d been in need of … Of what? A friend? Thor wasn’t his friend – he’d never been. A protector then? He’d been that, despite the egotistical reasons behind it, but that wasn’t how he thought of Thor either. He wasn’t sure what he thought of him, so it was best to look at the facts, and the most present fact at the moment was that Loki was all alone.

There could be a hundred different reasons why Thor had left, though. For all he knew, he was out there protecting him again. God, he sounded so fucking self-absorbed right now. His head felt heavy with a plethora of thoughts, and Loki no longer knew what to think of this mess anymore. He only knew he needed it to end or he was going to lose his mind.

Only … He didn’t have to wait for someone else to end it. He had the power to end it himself. He could have ended this mess before it had even started!

Sitting at the kitchen table, mindlessly stirring a cup of coffee, Loki allowed his thoughts to wander towards all the possibilities his life could have been if he’d made a few different decisions. If he’d told the police what he’d seen that night, where would he be? Dead in a ditch somewhere? There was a good chance. There was an even bigger chance no one would even know he was dead since Richard sure as hell wouldn’t file a missing person’s report. Or he might be in a witness protection program and Thor might be in jail for murder. He might be housed with a family that wouldn’t beat him up on a regular basis. He could be with a family that he might even grow to like, and a family that liked him.

In none of the scenarios he came up with was he stuck in Thor’s apartment, wondering what the hell he was doing. In none of those scenarios was he threatened by the city’s biggest crime lord or was he violated by a psychopath.

Something needed to change.

Something needed to be done.

Loki only now realized that _he_ needed to do that something.

He tossed the reminder of his coffee into the sink and grabbed his stuff, shoving it all into his backpack, which he slung over his shoulder. He glanced around the empty apartment again, wondering if he would ever have the guts to return to this place. After he’d done what he was setting out to do, would Thor ever want to see him again? He doubted it.

But maybe that was for the best.

The walk to the police station took half an hour, and Loki used that time to clear his head, to make sure that this was what he wanted. Once inside the station, there would be no turning back. Once inside, he’d be part of a game he had never played before, a game that he might very well lose.

Once he stepped into the old building, the warmth of the air making him feel a little nauseous – he told himself it had nothing to do with nerves – Loki refused to look back. He walked up to the front desk behind which a brunette sat, her lips dark red and the neckline of her blue police-jumper running down just a little bit too deep. Loki was pretty sure she was supposed to wear a blouse underneath it.

She glanced up at him over the edges of her round glasses. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“Uhm,” He started, only to curse himself for sounding like an idiot, “I’m here to speak to Detective Barnes or Detective Romanov?”

“And you are?”

“Loki,” He answered, unease settling in the pit of his stomach. That combined with the already warm lobby made Loki think he really _was_ going to throw up. “Loki Laufeyson.”

“Hold on,” The woman said, lifting one finger as she picked up her phone and dialed a number. If ever there was a final chance to back out, it was now. He could just turn around and leave. He could go to school and pretend he’d never been here. “There you go,” The woman smiled happily a short moment later, pointing over Loki’s shoulder.

Loki spun around to find Detective Romanov approaching, and she looked scarily imposing despite her short stature. There was just something about the way she moved; with confidence in her steps that made him believe she might even be able to take on Thor.

It was too late to change his mind now, he decided, so he swallowed away all of his doubt.

When she came to a halt in front of him, she smiled – if it was meant to reassure him, it failed miserably. “It’s good to see you again, Loki,” She said. Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes raked across his body, obviously counting the bruises on his skin. When she looked at his hand, he could tell she was already trying to figure out what had happened to him. “How can I help you?”

He inhaled deeply, ignoring the way his blood rushed to his ears. His hands began to tremble. “I know who killed the night shop owner,” He said, his own voice sounding foreign, “I saw everything.”


	9. Chapter 9

It really was like everything he’d ever seen in movies before. Loki let his eyes wander around again, taking in the three white walls along with the fourth one that mostly consisted out of a mirror. He wondered if anyone was behind it, watching him, studying him. That thought had him shift uncomfortably in his seat, and Loki placed his hands on top of the cold table surface, his fingers intertwining since he didn’t know what else to do with them.

“You sure you want no one else present?” Detective Barnes asked for the third time since they entered this little room – an interrogation room, which Loki never expected to see in real life. He hadn’t even been brought to one back when he’d been arrested for trying to steal a car. But in all fairness, he’d been twelve. He doubted they’d bring a twelve-year old into these kinds of rooms. He was pretty sure this would have scared the shit out of him.

He nodded in response to Detective Barnes’ question. “I’m sure,” He said. His voice still sounded strange to his own ears. He’d wanted to take control over the situation for once, but now more than ever did he feel powerless. It was frustrating as fuck. “I just want to get this over with,” Which wasn’t a lie. The sooner he could leave this place, the better.

“Okay,” Detective Barnes said.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Detective Romanov said, straightening her back a little. The pen in her hand was ready to write down every single word Loki was about to say, which reminded him of how delicate the game was that he was playing. Maybe he’d overestimated himself. Maybe he couldn’t do this, but in any case, it was too late to back down now. “You went to that night shop on Harrison Street the evening Mark Carey was murdered.”

He nodded once, his gaze shifting between the two detectives, wondering if they’d finally perform that whole good cop/bad cop play. “I did,” He said before clearing his throat, wanting to sound stronger than he did just now, “I’d just suffered through another big fight with my stepdad and I wanted to get out of the house, but it was getting late.” He still sounded like a tiny, grey mouse, desperate to scurry away from underneath the detectives’ scrutinizing gazes. “I wanted a smoke, but I didn’t have any cigarettes, so I went to that night shop.”

Detective Barnes looked up from the notes he was making. “You were alone?” He asked.

“At the shop?” Loki asked. The detective nodded. “Yes, I was alone when I got there. The owner was behind the counter, and I went to the back of the store, wanting something to drink, too, because screw the legal drinking age. And that was when he came in.”

“What happened?” Detective Romanov asked. She sounded calm and collected, which was so funny, because that was everything Loki _wasn’t_ feeling. No, his heart was beating wildly within his chest, and he was afraid that he was going to say something wrong, something that would ruin everything.

“I hid at the back of the store, but I heard their voices,” He explained. He was well aware that his hands were clasped together now, his knuckles having turned white. “I heart them talk about … two girls, I think? I don’t remember the names I heard, but I remember that the shop owner suddenly became terrified. I could hear it in his voice.” God, he hoped they were buying this shit, though technically, he hadn’t spun one lie so far. Still, he needed to convince these detectives, and they definitely weren’t as easy as Mr. Coulson.

“Okay,” Detective Barnes said when Loki was momentarily lost in thought, his mind racing so fast he could hardly keep up, “Then what?”

“He shot him,” Loki said. His emerald green eyes locked with Detective Barnes’ dark brown ones. The fear that was probably so obvious in his gaze, the horror and the panic, he didn’t have to fake. Just the memory of seeing that man’s brain being splattered all over the counter, it sent a cold shiver down his spine. “He shot him right in the face.”

“Who shot him?” Detective Barnes asked, never once breaking their eye-contact.

“He was tall,” Loki said, blinking once, forcing away the tears that threatened to invade his eyes. At least, he thought that was what he was supposed to do. He _needed_ those detectives to believe him. “He had blond hair and a beard.”

At that, the detectives’ eyes narrowed. It was actually pretty comical, but Loki kept his face straight.

“I think Fandral is his name,” He explained, shifting a little again.

“ _Fandral_ shot the Mark Carey?” Detective Romanov asked skeptically. She wasn’t writing anything down again, and her dark gaze took in every detail of Loki’s features. “Fandral Frederiksen?”

Loki felt his skin crawl and he swallowed away the distress that threatened to close up his throat, making it impossible for him to utter a single word. “Yes,” He answered, voice shaking, “I freaked out when I saw it happen and he spotted me. I throw a bottle at his head when he came after me, and then I ran since I didn’t know what else to do. I was reckless and I wasn’t paying attention, and Thor nearly ran me over with his bike.”

“Loki,” Detective Barnes said slowly and softly – he was definitely the good cop, because judging by the way Detective Romanov was looking at him, Loki had a feeling she wanted to scream at him. They weren’t buying his story, which meant he needed to step up his game. “Are you sure it was Fandral you saw that evening?”

Loki nodded.

“If you feel, for any reason, you gotta protect Thor then–”

“I’m sure,” He interrupted the detective, uncaring of the way his dark brown eyes filled with apprehension. He wasn’t done yet, after all. He would _make_ them believe him, just like he’d made Mr. Coulson believe everything was fine at his home for years in a row. “I’ve lived these past few weeks in fear of him,” He said, a hint of anger to his voice. The detectives clearly hadn’t expected that. Good. “He was following me around, showing up randomly, scaring the shit out of me. Thor’s my friend, I told you that before, and he knew something was wrong, and he tried to protect me, but I couldn’t tell him what was going on. I was too afraid that he’d get hurt because of me.”

He sighed and cast his eyes down, pressing his lips together for a moment. This was it. “And then yesterday,” He started hesitantly, no longer looking at the detectives, which was a conscious decision, “Yesterday, Fandral finally grabbed his chance.”

“What do you mean?” Detective Romanov asked, and would you look at that? There was concern in her otherwise stoic voice.

“He came to my school,” Loki said, glancing up at them, only to quickly look back down again. Funny how he could lie using the truth. “He wanted to shut me up and he did this to me.” He lifted his injured hand, showing the detectives the bandage. During the night, the cut had started bleeding again, staining the white bandage. “He brought a friend, too, but I don’t know his name.” This wasn’t about Volstagg, after all. He needed those detectives to focus all of their attention to one asshole in particular. “Fandral held me down and cut me, but I got away. There’s a teacher at my school who saw them. His name is Clint Barton. He’ll tell you it was them.”

“Why are you coming to us now?” Detective Barnes questioned in between scribbling down some notes. “You could have talked to us back when we came to your school.”

Loki shrugged and pulled back his hand which was still lying awkwardly on the table, palm facing the ceiling. “I thought that if I didn’t talk to you guys, that I’d eventually be left alone, by all parties.” Ha, that was the truth again! “Besides, you guys are generally hated around the part of the city where I live, and I didn’t want to … be a snitch or something. I don’t know. I guess I just realized that I won’t ever be safe as long as Fandral is out there.”

“Are you willing to testify this in court under oath?” Detective Barnes asked.

If it was meant to scare him, or warn him, it failed. Was he willing to put his hand on the Bible and swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth? Hell yes. He was prepared to tell the truth that suited him best, the truth that would help make his life better. No one was looking after him, no one cared for him, certainly not God, so fuck, he had no trouble lying while he had a hand on the Bible.

“I am,” He said, nothing but conviction in his voice.

“We’re going to investigate these new details,” Detective Romanov said.

“I know,” Loki said, gaze shifting away from Detective Barnes and towards Detective Romanov. She didn’t intimidate him as much anymore. There was nothing she could do that could be worse than what Fandral had done to him. “I just hope you arrest him soon. As long as he’s out there, he’s going to try and hurt me.” Probably not. He doubted Thor would let that happen.

“No worries,” Detective Barnes said with a small smile playing around the corners of his lips, “We’ll nail him.”

The next hour was passed taking care of paperwork. Loki had to sign his testimony and was asked a few more questions, but they didn’t matter anymore. He’d spun his lie and he was sure it would catch on. After all, none of the evidence pointed in Thor’s direction anymore. It was Detective Barnes who walked Loki out of the small room, escorting him back towards the front desk.

“I’ll have a police car drive you home,” He said.

“That’s okay,” Loki replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’d spent all morning and most of the afternoon in a small, suffocating room. He actually looked forward to getting some fresh air and clearing his head. He still had to figure out where to go from here on out, too. Could he go back to Thor’s place? Was he still welcome there? “I’ll get home on my own, Detective,” He said, “Besides, I don’t actually want to be seen in the presence of cops.”

“We can’t just let you walk out of here,” Detective Barnes said, shaking his head, “We’ll call your stepfather and–”

“No!” God, that would be even worse! The last thing he needed was cops calling Richard and telling him to come and pick up the stepson he never wanted. Just the idea had Loki’s breath stuttering inside his chest.

“Okay, okay,” The detective said, noticing Loki’s obvious discomfort, “Is there anyone we can call?”

They sure as hell couldn’t call Thor. He doubted Thor would come here. “Mr. Barton,” He blurted out, his tongue having come up with an answer before his mind had been able to process it. But it was the only one he could think of. He might possibly be the only person in this world that gave a shit about him without any ulterior motives. “Could you call him?” He asked. “He’ll come, I know he will.”

Detective Barnes’ small smile returned to his features, softening them. “Of course I’ll call him.”

-x-x-x-

Clint Barton arrived thirty minutes later, walking into the police building with uncertain eyes and tense muscles. His fingers were clenched around his car keys. Loki stood from where he was sitting, and as soon as those grey eyes landed on him, a sense of relief seemed to flood both of them. A part of Loki had expected Mr. Barton to ditch him, to finally having stopped caring about him, but now he was here and Loki hated himself for ever doubting him.

The teacher walked over to him quickly and sighed when he came to a halt in front of him. “Are you okay?” He asked, worry lacing his voice. His gaze shifted up and down Loki’s body, searching for wounds or bruises, and Loki realized that the guy thought it had something to do with Richard. If only …

“Yeah,” He said, “I’m okay.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about Mr. Barton feeling so concerned for him. Truly, a part of him liked it, because there weren’t many people around that cared enough about him to feel worry, but another part of him hated that he was the cause of Barton’s panic – if it really was panic revealed in his grey eyes. “I just needed a ride out of here and I couldn’t think of anyone else.”

Mr. Barton placed a hand on top of Loki’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “You know you can always call me,” He said, smiling.

They walked out of the building, and Loki inhaled sharply, enjoying the way cool, fresh air filled his lungs. A headache was coming on, what with having sat in a tiny, oxygen-deprived room for so many hours, but he instantly felt better.

Mr. Barton’s car was a modest Toyota, a blue one, and Loki got into the passenger’s seat.

“Want me to drive you home?” Mr. Barton asked as soon as he sat behind the steering wheel, the engine running. He was looking sideways at Loki, eyebrows lifted a little.

“No,” Loki said. His backpack was sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around them almost protectively. Inside the bag might as well be the last possessions he had. If he was no longer welcome at Thor’s place, then he’d be forced to return to Richard, but who could tell what he’d find there? He had a feeling Richard wasn’t just going to let him return without some form of payback first. Loki could already imagine his clothes burning in the small, untended backyard. “Could you drive me to a friend’s place?”

Mr. Barton’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “The big blond with a motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” Loki admitted, because what was the point in lying? He wanted to see Thor, _had_ to see him, if only to warn him about what he’d done. And then maybe he’d never see him again. But at least then Tony Stark’s interest in him would fade. He would go back to his old, sad little life.

They arrived at the apartment building ten minutes later, and Loki couldn’t help but stare up at the layers of bricks. He didn’t even know if Thor was home. Clutching his backpack more tightly to his chest, Loki moved to open the car door, only for Clint Barton’s hand to fold around his shoulder again. Loki glanced at the man, confused.

“You look scared,” Mr. Barton said.

Did he? Well, he _was_ scared of Thor’s reaction. If he really would get kicked out of his apartment, then Loki didn’t know what he was supposed to do after. He didn’t want Thor to send him away, which was so fucking ridiculous, because how could he still cling to that man after what he’d done?

Loki swallowed heavily and forced a smile on his face. “I’ll be okay,” He assured his teacher, or he tried to at least, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Thanks for picking me up at the station.” He shrugged off Mr. Barton’s hand and got out of the car, and without looking back, he entered the apartment building, making his way up to the fourth floor.

Every step he took made him feel a little heavier.

Right in front of the door with a small plaque saying 403, Loki halted and exhaled slowly. Behind that door, there was a muffled voice – Thor’s. Loki’s fingers folded around the round doorknob and twisted it. He could still turn back. He could go to Richard’s and close this chapter of his life, only who was he kidding? He wanted to see Thor again, wanted to feel the warmth of his touch and taste his lips again.

Walking into the apartment, he found Thor by the sink, a phone pressed to his ear, but at the sound of the door opening, Thor spun around, his dark blue eyes widening at the sight of him, and Loki felt his chest constrict. Breathing became hard.

“I’ll call you back,” Thor snapped into the phone before he threw it aside. With big, confident steps, he crossed the kitchen, and Loki almost jumped back, afraid that Thor was going to hurt him, only to feel those long, rough fingers thread through his jet black hair. “Where the hell have you been?” Thor asked, eyes still wide, his voice balancing on the edge of angry and frantic.

Loki nervously licked at his dry lips, hoping it would buy him a few seconds to come with a proper answer to that question. He could lie and say he’d been wandering about, though chances were that lie would burst like a bubble in a matter of minutes. So the truth seemed to be the only way to go, but Loki still couldn’t shake the thought of Thor tossing him out. Fuck, he didn’t want Thor to send him away!

“I’ve been at the police station all day,” He answered after a long moment of silence.

Much like he feared, Thor’s hand fell away.

“What?” There was only shock in Thor’s eyes.

“I had to do something,” Loki had to force himself to keep talking while more than anything, he just wanted to throw his arms around Thor’s neck and beg him not to be angry, “I protected you the only way I could.”

“What did you do?” Thor asked. His panic was gone already, and only the anger had remained.

Loki felt his knees buckle. It was a miracle he didn’t fall to the floor right then and there. “I told them who murdered the night shop owner,” He said, looking into Thor’s eyes. Sure, he was being vague as hell, but there was a purpose to it. If ever there was a shift towards violence behind those dark blue eyes, Loki was ready to dart out of the apartment and never look back. Like hell was he going to trade one abusive house for another one. But Thor didn’t raise his hand. He didn’t even raise his voice.

“You’ve been talking to those detectives,” Thor said, realization dawning upon him. He looked hurt.

“Yeah,” Loki said, nodding curtly, “I told them all about how Fandral shot Mark Carey in the face.”

There was confusion, followed by disbelief, then in transformed into something akin to … awe. “You framed Fandral?” He asked, his voice comically high.

“The guy made it too easy,” Loki told him, the edges of his lips curving upwards a little. He took a step closer towards Thor, his fingers curling along the edge of his shirt. He knew for sure now that Thor would never lay a hand on him. And fuck, the look on his face right now, the astonishment along with … pride, it caused something to twist inside Loki’s stomach, something warm and delicate. “Besides, he’s a tool,” He said, echoing Thor’s words.

Thor let out a short huff of laughter.

Loki’s fingers slid along the edge of Thor’s shirt. The feeling of Thor’s warm skin made him shudder, and he liked that. He liked that a lot. “What are you thinking right now?” He asked, looking at Thor from underneath dark eyelashes, his head cocked sideways a little.

Thor’s hands slipped down the sides of Loki’s neck. “You don’t want to know,” He replied. His voice sounded thick and heavy, and Loki quite liked that, too. “Unfortunately, we have work to do first,” He continued with regret in his voice, “We gotta talk to Tony Stark.”

Loki nodded. “Yeah,” He said. No matter how much it sucked, Thor was right. “There’s something I gotta discuss with him.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is; the final chapter.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who stuck with this story to the end. Thank you, everyone, who took the time to leave me a message! I loved reading your thoughts, emotions and speculations :D
> 
> Special thanks to Greenloki who beta'd this story and made sure I finished it! I love you, girl! :D

“So let me get this straight,” Tony Stark said after a long and heavy silence. He turned away from the window, his dark brown eyes, calculated and sharp, instantly locking with Loki’s cautious green ones. His entire posture appeared casual, what with his hands in the pockets of his trousers and the top three buttons of his shirt loose. He leaned back against the windowsill and crossed one ankle over the other. “You set up Fandral to take the fall for a murder Thor committed.”

Loki’s eyes momentarily darted sideways, towards Thor who stood by the desk, arms crossed before his massive chest, and he wished the man stood closer to him. He had a feeling Thor had deliberately posed himself there, though, not wanting Tony to see their closeness. Or did Tony know about that? He sure as hell looked like the kind of guy who always knew everything without letting it on.

“Yes,” He said after forcing himself to look back at Tony Stark, finding those dark eyes still glued to his form. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with his hands. “It was the obvious route to take.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Tony instantly replied. He lifted a hand and pointed a finger towards Loki, his head shaking. “It really wasn’t, but that’s not important here. It was a clever move, I’ll give you that, but it leaves me wondering why.”

Loki bit down on his lower lip for a second. “Why?” He echoed, confused.

“Why protect Thor?” Tony asked. He sauntered closer towards Loki, still waving that one finger around, and Loki had to fight down the urge to step back. Tony came to a halt directly in front of him, and despite them having about the same height, the guy managed to look down at him, much like he’d done last time they met.

“Does it matter?” He asked in return, fully aware of how sharp he sounded, but whatever. He doubted the answer would be surprising to anyone anyway. This was just a way of messing with him, or perhaps to test him. Honestly, Loki didn’t know. Tony Stark seemed like the kind of guy who enjoyed toying with others. No what was important here was that Loki needed one final piece of the puzzle to make the whole picture fit, and only Tony could access it.

“It matters to me,” Tony said, smiling tightly, “But I suppose we all know the answer to that question.” His eyes knowingly flickered towards Thor and stayed on him. “You do know he’s technically illegal, right?”

“We haven’t done anything illegal,” Thor simply replied, clearly being used to these kinds of games. Hell, he didn’t even budge, which Loki truly admired. How the fuck did he stay so calm when Tony was looking at him like he could read every secret in his mind?

“Why Fandral?” Tony asked suddenly, eyes snapping back to Loki.

Loki instantly became very aware of the fact that he stood dangerously close to the city’s biggest crime lord. He could practically feel his warm breath on his face, which fogged up his mind, and he could hardly think anymore.

Casting down his eyes, Loki took a step back, hating himself for showing such weakness and hating Tony for chuckling. “Fandral was the easiest solution,” He settled on.

“No, no, no,” Tony said, shaking his head while tapping a finger to his own lips, “This set-up practically _smells_ of revenge. Is this your revenge, Loki? Because I have to remind you, _I_ sent Fandral to collect you, but you know that, don’t you? So my question is; what’s your revenge for me?”

“Wow,” Loki couldn’t help but utter, “You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

This time, Tony’s laugh sounded genuine – which freaked Loki out all the more. He shuffled away from Tony Stark and closer towards Thor, and by some miracle Thor sensed his need for closeness, because he stepped away from the desk and moved to stand beside him.

“Loki isn’t interested in any revenge,” Thor said.

“It’s written all over that pretty face of his, Thor,” Tony said. His phone beeped, Tony checking whatever message he’d received, only to discard it, but those few seconds gave Loki the chance to collect himself again, forcing himself to calm the fuck down. “Are you forcing Fandral to take the fall for the murder because he cut you, Loki?” Tony asked, pointing down at Loki’s bandaged hand.

Loki glanced down at his injured hand. The cut still stung on occasion, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle, not compared to some of the beatings he’d suffered by Richard’s hand. No, Fandral had done something much worse than set a knife to his skin. Just the memory of his touch had his stomach twist painfully, making him feel sick – sick and angry. Loki balled his hands into tight fists, uncaring that the cut started bleeding again, and looked at Tony, silently telling him to shut up now.

But of course Tony didn’t shut up. “Would you look at that,” He said, almost as if he were admiring the plethora of emotions flitting behind Loki’s eyes. Loki was sure Tony could identify each and every one of them. “Fuck, you look about ready to commit a murder yourself, kid, Fandral’s murder to be precise.”

“Shut up,” Loki hissed through gritted teeth. He knew Tony was pushing his buttons, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“What did he do?” Tony asked, eyes suddenly narrowing.

Shit, this was getting out of hand. “I actually wanted to ask you–”

“Don’t change the subject,” Tony snapped angrily, “What did he do?”

“What the fuck does it matter?” Loki snapped. When Thor’s hand curled around his wrist, Loki turned his heated eyes to him and jerked his hand free, willing him to stand down. Sure, he’d wanted him close, but that had been before Tony Stark came breathing down on his neck, fishing for the truth, because the asshole was smarter than he looked and he probably felt there was more to the story. Well, screw him.

“You’re sending him to jail for a reason, Loki, and it’s not just because he cut you up a bit,” Tony said, utterly unaffected by Loki’s outburst, “Hell, that’s probably nothing compared to what your stepdaddy does to you on a regular basis.”

Fuck, now they were talking about Richard? His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Come on, spill it,” Tony said as he dramatically waved his hands around.

“If he thinks he can lay a hand on me and touch me,” Loki bit out, eyes blazing, “Then you can be damn sure I’ll make him pay for it!” His chest was heaving with how hard and fast he was breathing, yet he didn’t seem to get any oxygen in his lungs. The edges of his vision darkened and his limbs trembled, but not with fear for once. He was thrumming with rage.

“That fucker did what?” Came Thor’s loud voice.

It was enough to crack through Loki’s defensives and bring down the amount of hostility that blinded him. He spun around to look at him, those beautiful dark eyes of his brimming with fury and disgust, and he quite enjoyed seeing Thor jump to his defense like that.

“Don’t worry,” He said, his voice cold and razor-sharp, “There’s no need to jump in and defend my honor, ‘cause I’m getting my revenge right here and now.” He wished he could press himself against Thor’s strong and warm body and be engulfed by those large arms of his, but he couldn’t, not yet.

He turned back to Stark who looked distastefully smug. “I want him behind bars and I’ll _see_ him behind bars,” He fumed, “But you can make the whole damn thing easier.” This was why he’d wanted to talk to the asshole in the first place. “You benefit from this. If Fandral gets convicted for the murder, then Thor goes completely free and he can work for you again. He can do every job you need done.”

Tony moved to lean back against the windowsill, his lips pursed together. “Continue,” He said after a short silence.

Loki wished his mouth wasn’t so dry. “Everyone knows Fandral is a screw-up,” He said. It surprised him that he managed to sound as steady as he did. “Hell, he had back-up and a knife, and he still wasn’t able to bring me to you. He’s an amateur.”

“Get to the point,” Tony sighed, looking bored – at least, he tried to convince Loki of that, but there was no denying the way his dark brown eyes stood wide and apprehensive, the way he was taking in every word Loki spoke.

“There’s a witness,” He said. With his back straight and his hands consciously still beside his body, Loki hoped he radiated nothing but confidence. He kind of felt that way now, like he’d finally regained some control over the whole situation. “A single mother of two, right?”

Tony nodded.

“Everyone has a price,” Loki continued without missing a beat, “Persuade her to testify that she didn’t only see me, but Fandral, too, and the whole case will be closed in under a year.”

A long silence followed, and fuck, Loki wished he could tell what Tony was thinking, but the man’s eyes were completely shielded.

Then, “Okay.”

“ _What?_ ” Thor blurted out. He took one step towards his boss, but one piercing look from Tony had him halt. Still, that didn’t silence him. “I asked you to pay off that witness so she’d say she never saw Loki, and you refused. Now Loki asks you and you just agree?”

“You asked me to throw away money,” Tony replied as he crossed his arms before his chest, “If I’d paid off the witness like you asked, the cops would still be looking at you. Loki here is asking me to make an investment. If I do this, business can return to normal – or mostly normal – and Mark Carey’s murder can finally be swept under the rug once and for all.”

Thor looked about ready to throw himself at Tony.

“Thor,” Loki said with a soft voice, asking for his attention. When those dark eyes shifted towards him, Loki swallowed heavily and pressed his lips together, suddenly unable to think of a single thing to say. The last thing he wanted was Thor to get in trouble. No, all that he wanted was to go home with him. Not that that was possible. “It’s done,” He said after a few seconds, “Can we go now?”

Something shifted behind Thor’s eyes, turning them from hard to soft. He closed the distance between them, and really, Loki hadn’t expected him to wrap an arm around is middle and pull him close. Over Thor’s shoulder, Loki saw Tony raising an eyebrow, but fuck him. He leaned into Thor’s embrace and rested his head against his shoulder as Thor pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah,” Thor said with his distinct deep voice, “Let’s get out of here.”

Before they managed to get through the door, Tony Stark called for their attention again, both Thor and Loki turning to look at him. A sly smile played around the edges of his lips, and Loki wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not.

“You’ve got a sharp mind, kid,” Tony said, “I could use someone like you. If you’re ever looking for a job, you know where to find me.”

Loki blinked. There really wasn’t a proper way to reply to that, so he just nodded. Working for Tony Stark? Not in a million years, but he wasn’t stupid enough to flat out refuse the offer. “Thanks,” He said, knowing he sounded awkward again, but thank God Thor intervened. He folded a hand around Loki’s hip and guided him out of the office.

Loki hoped he’d never have to deal with Tony Stark again.

-x-x-x-

The door clicked shut behind him and it sort of felt final. Loki inhaled deeply, held his breath for three long second, and exhaled. He really hadn’t thought to be back in Thor’s apartment, not after the huge gamble he’d made, but it seemed he’d succeeded in his plan. His only regret was that he wouldn’t be present when those detectives arrested Fandral. He’d love to see the look on that bastard’s face.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Thor’s hand taking hold of his. Loki looked up at him, their gazes connecting, and he found himself already leaning forward until Thor got the hint and wrapped his arms around him. That was what he’d longed for since this morning, to be in Thor’s arm, knowing he was safe and that everything was going to be okay.

“What are you thinking?” Thor asked, his lips brushing against Loki’s hair.

“I’m thinking …” Actually, he wasn’t sure what he was thinking. There was chaos in his head. From where he stood, head resting against Thor’s chest, he could hear his strong and steady heartbeat, which helped him calm down, and Loki closed his eyes, his fingers grasping Thor’s shirt tightly, unwilling to let him go.

“You impressed Tony Stark,” Thor said. Stark was the last person Loki wanted to think about right now, and he groaned softly. “You impressed me.”

At that, Loki pulled back a little, glancing up at Thor with wide, green eyes. “I did?”

Thor’s thumb slipped down the side of Loki’s face before he leaned down and pressed his lips against Loki’s, softly, yet firm. This time, Loki groaned a little louder, well aware that he might possibly sound desperate, but he didn’t care. He parted his lips and let Thor in. He’d been kissed like this before, but all those kisses vanished into nothingness compared to Thor’s passionate lips moving against his. Loki’s entire body flooded with warmth when Thor’s tongue licked into his mouth.

He pressed his entire body against Thor’s, reveling at the way Thor’s hands moved down his back and cupped his ass, and _oh_ , his mind went blank as Thor’s hardness press against his thigh. Thinking became impossible, but that was a good thing. Loki shifted his hands underneath Thor’s shirt, the tips of his fingers sliding against warm skin and taut muscles.

God, he wanted to _see_ Thor’s body! Reluctantly pulling away from Thor’s lips, he grabbed hold of Thor’s shirt and pulled it over his head, Thor’s hair a mess afterwards, but Loki had no attention for it, not when he could finally see the naked broadness of Thor’s chest, his tanned skin, his muscles flexing with every move he made.

Loki swallowed heavily when heat swirled inside his stomach, dropping lower and lower until it pooled in his crotch. Thor’s usually dark blue eyes were now almost completely black, and Loki shuddered at the sight, releasing a breathy moan. Their lips crashed together again, hard and hungry, and Loki’s cock twitch inside his jeans. Thor’s hands tugged at Loki’s shirt and pulled it over his head.

At that, Loki looked away, fully aware of what Thor saw right now – a scrawny, pale kid.

“Don’t look away,” Came Thor’s husky voice. He seemed to have trouble breathing. With the tip of his finger, he directed Loki’s face upward, and he smiled. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now.”

“Then do it,” Loki replied. His hands shifted to the button of Thor’s pants, opening them and pushing them down his hips.

Thor kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants when they fell around his ankles. Loki’s breath stuttered inside his chest, his eyes raking up Thor’s long legs, up his muscled thighs and towards the bulge of his underwear. _Oh God_. He’d never gone this far with anyone and suddenly, he was clueless about what he should do next. Get undressed, too? Touch Thor?

Much to his relief, Thor simply cupped his chin and kissed him again.

“First time?” He asked.

Loki nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Don’t worry,” Thor smiled – and it wasn’t a mocking smile, or an arrogant one. It was a warm smile, one that reassured him. “I’ll be gentle, and if you want to stop, just say so.”

Fuck no, he didn’t want to stop! Pressing himself up against Thor, Loki carded his hands through Thor’s already messy hair. He couldn’t stop looking at Thor’s red and swollen lips. He’d done that to him, which was a sentiment he enjoyed.

“I trust you,” He heard himself say. The words weren’t meant to leave him, but now it was too late to take them back. Uncertainly, Loki took in the expression on Thor’s face, finding only adoration and tenderness.

His hands shook as they trailed down Thor’s stomach until they reached the edge of his underwear, and slowly but deliberately, he pushed them down, freeing Thor’s long, thick cock of its confinements. Loki’s mouth watered at the sight of it, his heart skipping a beat.

“Go on,” Thor murmured, the tip of his nose brushing the side of Loki’s face.

His long fingers curled around Thor’s length, and he shuddered at the feeling of the hard, warm flesh. Oh, the things he wanted Thor to do to him! He wanted his hands on his body, his lips kissing him, his cock inside of him. Languidly, yet thoroughly, Loki started stroking Thor’s hardness, excitement causing his skin to tingle as he felt Thor’s cock twitch in his hand.

“Come,” Thor said, short of breath. He took Loki’s hand and guided him out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the bedroom. With gentle hands, he pushed Loki down onto the soft sheets of the bed – and Loki felt really grateful that Thor was steering the moment, because he was fucking clueless about what he was supposed to do.

With Thor hovering above him, it was easy for Loki’s hands to explore every inch of Thor’s shoulders and chest, fingers eagerly seeking every curve and dent, and when they brushed down Thor’s nipple, Loki grinned at the way they instantly became hard. Only then did he become aware that Thor wasn’t doing anything. His dark eyes were simply watching him, his hands leaning on either side of Loki’s head, his knees planted onto the mattress besides Loki’s thighs.

“Sorry,” Loki said, his hands dropping away from Thor’s skin.

“I have no idea why you’re apologizing,” Thor chuckled. He leaned down and trailed a path of kisses down the side of Loki’s neck, Loki arching his head sideways to give him better access, and oh God, Thor was driving him absolutely insane! Thor continued to trail kisses down his body, sucking a little when he took a nipple in his mouth – and shit, Loki feared he’d cum right then.

“ _Thor_ ,” He moaned. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hands clung tightly to Thor’s shoulders.

Thor’s tongue licked at the pale skin of Loki’s stomach, kissed Loki’s bellybutton, and then moved further down. Loki’s hips pushed upwards on instinct when Thor unzipped his jeans and pushed them down, along with his underwear. Loki was hard – harder than he’d ever been before, it felt like – but he didn’t dare to look down. Shit, he was nothing compared to Thor!

Groaning, Loki threw an arm over his face, refusing to witness the disapproval or judgment on Thor’s face, not wanting – _oh_ , that was Thor’s mouth around the head of his cock. Loki threw his head back, eyes going wide and his hands grasping at the sheets beneath him.

“Oh shit,” He gasped when Thor sucked, and yeah, he wasn’t going to last long like this, “Thor, I can’t–” Thor’s warm and wet mouth disappeared, and Loki groaned with dislike.

“You wanna keep going?” Thor asked with a thick and heavy voice. His face with beautifully red and his swollen lips hovered above Loki’s again. He felt electricity trickle through his skin when he saw how dark Thor’s eyes still were. His blond hair fell over his shoulders, and Loki trailed his fingers through it.

“Yeah,” He said, nodding fervently, “I wanna keep going.” He _had_ to keep going, because his body felt too tight and his cock was achingly hard against his thigh, and he _needed_ Thor to do something again; to touch him, kiss him, fuck him. With his fingers tangled into Thor’s hair, he pulled him down and kissed the shell of his ear before whispering, “I’m ready.”

“Fucking hell, Loki,” Thor all but choked. He reached over for the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of lube from the top drawer – and really, why didn’t Loki ever search through those drawers? Thor settled himself between Loki’s thighs and poured a generous amount of the clear liquid into the palm of his hand.

Loki swallowed heavily as Thor coated his fingers with the lube, a shiver running down his back. Sure, he’d fingered himself occasionally while jerking off at night, but Thor’s fingers were considerably bigger than his, and oh fuck, Loki wasn’t sure if he could take Thor’s cock! His heart thudded violently within his chest and his mouth turned dry. What if he couldn’t do this? Thor would be disappointed, and he’d never be able to look into those dark blue eyes again.

All those thoughts were chased out of his head when he felt a wet, sticky finger circle his hole, and much to his own surprise, his body reacted by pushing down. The finger breached him, Loki sucking in a sharp breath as it did, because it felt fascinatingly … good – unlike anything he’d felt before and nothing compared to his own finger. Loki bit down on his lower lip, holding back a sound as Thor twisted his finger inside of him.

The second finger produced a burning sensation, and Loki didn’t know how to keep his body still anymore. He squirmed beneath Thor, hands desperately clinging to the bed sheets, a thin layer of sweat covering his pale skin. With the third finger came a whine, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut to the point where there were a million stars dancing before his vision.

“Just loosening you up, baby,” And no, Thor wasn’t allowed to ever say _that_ again, because Loki nearly lost his shit _again_. Thor pulled his fingers back, leaving Loki’s hole clenching around air.

Loki picked up his head and glared at the man, silently telling him to keep going. Fuck, he wanted to cum already, his cock twitching against his stomach.

The head of Thor’s cock pressed against his hole, pushing in, and Loki cried out, every muscle in his body growing tense and locking down. Moving became impossible, as did breathing, and Loki stared up at the ceiling, lips parted in a silent cry.

Thor’s hand brushed aside his raven hair. “Relax, Loki,” He said gently, his hand still carding through his dark hair, “Breathe.”

He did. Seconds ticked by, agonizingly slowly, but Loki found that his body adjusted to the intrusion. A few moments later, he blinked and glanced at Thor, nodding. “I’m good,” He said, his voice barely a whisper. Carefully, Thor pushed in further while Loki focused on his breathing – in and out, in and out.

Thor’s cock burned him, stretching him. His nails dug deep into Thor’s shoulders and he folded his legs around Thor’s waist. The angle it provided was better, and Loki moaned as Thor began to move, fully aware that he sounded desperate and wanton, but Thor seemed to like it, so Loki didn’t care. The feeling of Thor’s slick cock inside of him, sliding against his inner walls, drove Loki mad. His own cock throbbed against his skin, but Loki had no intention of stroking himself. No, what Thor was doing was enough.

Thor kept the pace slow, hips moving forward, cock brushing past Loki’s prostate with each thrust he gave. Loki silently thanked him and buried his face in the crook of Thor’s neck, inhaling deeply. He clung to him and pressed his hips down each time Thor thrust forward, and Loki could feel his orgasm building. He was so fucking close, and Thor sensed it, too.

“Thor, I’m gonna–”

“Go on,” Thor breathed into his ear, “I’ve got you.”

That was all he needed. Pleasure wrecked his body, causing his back to arch off of the bed. Cum stained his stomach, making his skin sticky, and Loki had never felt so dirty before, but he liked it. Fuck, he liked it! The muscles of his legs spasmed, keeping Thor in place between his thighs, and Loki moaned Thor’s name again and again until he had no breath left.

He had no more strength left either. Loki dropped his legs and shuddered when Thor pulled out of him, his emerald green eyes instantly locking onto Thor’s still hard length. “Shit, I’m sorry,” He said, realizing that he hadn’t satisfied Thor’s need – only for Thor to slam their lips together, silencing the rest of his apology.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the bedroom, Thor jacking off, hard and fast, and Loki couldn’t help but watch him, the head of his cock thick and red, pre-cum beading at the top. Thor grunted and, a few seconds later, he came, too, spilling his seed over his own hand and onto Loki’s already sticky stomach.

Thor rolled onto his back and gazed sideways at Loki, a lazy, content smile playing around his lips. “Come here,” He said, spreading out an arm and inviting Loki closer – Loki who didn’t need to be asked twice. He shuffled towards Thor and curled an arm around Thor’s waist, his head resting on top of Thor’s chest. His heartbeat was fast, but Loki could hear it slowing down.

“How are you feeling?” Thor asked.

“Sore,” Loki replied, which was the truth. His ass hurt, but it was nothing compared to the afterglow of pleasure he was experiencing. “And I feel light.” He didn’t dare to go as far as to say ‘happy’. He didn’t want to sound sappy. “How about you? You didn’t– You had to–” He stopped talking before he made a complete idiot out of himself.

“I didn’t what?” Thor questioned. His hand was drawing lazy circles into Loki’s back. “I didn’t fuck you senseless in order to chase my own pleasure?” Well, if he put it like that … Loki buried his face beneath his hand, not wanting to see the blush on his cheeks. “Get some rest,” He said after a short silence, “It’s been a very long day.”

That it had.

-x-x-x-

For the first time, Loki approached the house without fear. Hell, it didn’t even look as big and intimidating anymore. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Loki stepped up to the front door and opened it, the sound of the TV playing instantly reaching his ears; Richard was home. Loki glanced back and found Thor nodding encouragingly.

He might not experience fear, but a sense of dread still settled in the pit of his stomach. This was the first time he would see Richard in days, and last time he’d been forced to suffer through a million taunts and threats. Loki banned those memories from his head. This time was different.

At the sound of footsteps, Richard stood up from the couch, a frown creasing brow. Funnily enough, he had more grey hair than Loki remembered.

“Really?” Richard asked, rolling his eyes. “I’m sick of this, Loki. You come here whenever it suits you and expect me to be fine with it?” He picked up a half-empty bottle of beer from the coffee table and took a generous gulp. He wasn’t drunk, but Loki wouldn’t call him entirely sober either.

Thor stepped around Loki and approached the man, and much to Loki’s amusement, Richard instantly stepped back. Ha, the anxiety in his brown eyes was delightful. Loki’s heartbeat sped up, excitement thrumming through his veins, and he couldn’t hold back the grin that curved the edges of his lips upwards, certainly not when Thor took the beer bottle ever so casually out of Richard’s hand.

“You listen to me, you fucking piece of shit,” Thor started. He sounded calm and collected, yet his body was practically radiating danger. Loki had to bite down on his lip in order not to make a sound, because fuck, whenever Thor stood up for him like that, it messed with Loki’s mind _and_ body. “Loki is going to live here again, because you’re legally bound to let him live here. You’re not gonna talk to him, not unless absolutely necessary, and you’re not going to lay a finger on him.” Thor grabbed hold of Richard’s chin when the guy looked away. “If I see one bruise on him, I swear to God, I’ll make you regret it. Are we clear?”

Richard nodded vigorously. Thor shoved his face away, and Richard stumbled back, instantly reaching up to feel at his chin. Loki was sure there would be bruises there tomorrow. Thor turned away from the man and walked back to Loki, his hand sliding down Loki’s arm.

“I’ll see you soon?” Loki asked. Occasionally, he threw a glance at Richard who stood awkwardly by the TV, still rubbing his sore skin, but his attention was completely drawn towards Thor when he kissed him, slow and gentle, his tongue sliding across Loki’s lips.

“This is only temporary,” Thor said after he pulled back. His hand held Loki’s elbow. “Until Fandral is convicted for the murder and behind bars.”

Loki nodded. They really didn’t have another choice. If he were to live with Thor, questions would be asked, because unfortunately, those detectives weren’t morons. No, they had to lay low and patiently wait for the case to be closed. Only then would they be able to be together, _properly_. And if that meant he had to suffer through a few more months of living with Richard, he could do that.

“Send me a text when you want to meet up,” Thor said, his hand falling away from Loki’s arm, “Or when there’s trouble.” He added, shooting a nasty look in Richard’s direction.

“Will do,” Loki smiled.

“And stay _out_ of trouble.”

Loki moved to stand on the tips of his toes and cocked his head a little to the left, grinning. He caught Thor in his web almost instantly, his lips against his again, his warm and wet tongue licking into his mouth. And so what if Richard was standing right there? Hell, Loki practically hoped he’d say something, just so Thor could beat the shit out of him.

“No promises there,” Loki smiled

-x-x-x-

About A Year Later

-x-x-x-

Loki stretched out his arms above him, his back arched. It was the middle of the summer, which meant blistering heat, and his underwear and shirt stuck annoyingly to his skin. Loki rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and pulled his hair back into a little bun at the nape of his neck, but it helped nothing. He still felt too hot and uncomfortable in his own skin.

Richard was long gone, as usual. Hell, last time Loki had seen him was last week. The guy didn’t like being around him anymore, not that he ever liked it, but in the past, he’d found amusement in kicking the shit out of him, but that had been swept off of the table. He’d dared to punch him once last November, and Thor had very generously let him up after only kicking him about ten times.

Grabbing a glass of orange juice and the newspaper, Loki sat down at the kitchen table, one leg folded underneath his body. Summer so far had been mostly boring, but he supposed he should enjoy it. At the end of August, he would start his senior year, and since he didn’t have any plans to stay in high school any longer than he had to, he planned on graduating. That meant next summer, he’d have to find a job, because like hell could he afford college.

His gaze snapped to the bottom right corner of the front page of the paper where there was a small picture of Fandral and Loki quickly flipped through the paper to page five on which the whole story was printed. His breath came out in short bursts, unable to believe that the verdict had finally been spoken. He’d testified in court and faced Fandral’s blazing eyes, but that was about it. Thor tried to keep him away from the whole business as much as possible for his own sake, and Loki had been okay with that.

He scanned through the article until he found the piece of information he was desperate to know; Fandral Frederiksen had been sentenced to twenty five years in prison, ten of those years on parole if he behaved, which was more than Loki had thought he’d get, but considering he was a known felon and that he’d killed Mark Carey in cold blood – or so everyone had been made to believe – Loki supposed it was a fair punishment.

Closing the newspaper, Loki emptied his glass of juice and hurried into the bathroom. He jumped into the shower, got dressed and tied his hair into a bun again. Excitement made his body thrum with energy, hell, it could even be euphoria.

Just as he darted out of the bathroom, he heard the familiarity of an engine roaring – Loki didn’t even bother with shoes. Running out of the house, casting a quick look up at the sky and cursing the scorching sun, he hurried towards Thor who sat on his motorcycle, his helmet pinned underneath his arm.

He halted beside him, unable to temper the brilliant smile that nearly broke his face. “Twenty five years,” He said. Thor was fully aware of what he was talking about. Hell, it was why he was here so early in the morning. “It’s over.”

Those dark blue eyes were alight with elation. “Put on shoes and grab your stuff,” He said, “I’m taking you away from here.”

Loki carded his fingers through Thor’s loose hair – how could he stand it sticking to the back of his neck? – and pulled him forward until their lips met. He sighed happily after the kiss broke, their need of air becoming too strong. “Give me ten minutes,” He said, “I’ll be right back.”

Thor hummed. “Hurry.”

-x-x-x-

The End

-x-x-x-


End file.
